


Slow Burn

by Calenheniel



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 58,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calenheniel/pseuds/Calenheniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[1xR] He had always been conscious of the fact that she—Relena Darlian Peacecraft, Queen of the World—loved him, and him alone. And yet that was the problem, since he could never give her what she truly desired: Himself. / A series of vignettes post-Endless Waltz. COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 5 June, AC 200

**Author's Note:**

> First, this fic is largely based after the events of Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz and contains references to the mangas Blind Target, Gundam Wing: Zero and Battlefield of Pacifists. Of these, Blind Target is the most important, and it is recommended reading for this fanfiction (especially its epilogue, entitled ‘After Story’). You can find it at the link below:
> 
> manga.animea.net/gundam-wing-blind-target.html
> 
> Second, the chapters of this fic are not arranged in chronological order, so expect a lot of skipping through the years back and forth, but the events created here largely fall between A.C. 196-201. 
> 
> Last, as always, this series does not belong to me; I merely pay homage to it.

She stared blankly at the beige wall in front of her, the sound of him slipping his black pants and white shirt back on fading into the background.

“Relena?”

She pretended not to hear him.

**“Relena?”**

She finally turned back to look at him, sitting up in the bed. She reddened a little, drawing the covers over her breasts as she met his curious expression.

“Sorry,” she mumbled her apology, tucking her long bangs sloppily behind her ears as he continued getting dressed again, having already dismissed her momentary lapse in attention. 

She held back a small sigh as she glanced down at the floor next to her side of the bed, noticing her various articles of clothing messily collected in a pool of fabric. It seemed to be another indication to her of his superhuman abilities that, by contrast, his clothes always managed to be neatly gathered on a nearby chair—even in the heat of a passionate embrace. The notion nearly made her grin at its ridiculousness.

She caught his eye a moment later, his gaze clearly confused by the fact that she was still in the bed and undressed; she let herself sigh for that one.

_I guess he’s not in a cuddly mood today._

He seemed to pick up on her disappointment. “Is something wrong?”

She wanted to sigh again, hearing the seriousness of his tone over her trivial musings; but, seeing the real care and concern that belied his question, she smiled a little, letting go of the sheets as she placed one leg outside the bed, grabbing her panties from the bottom of the pile.

“I’m fine, Heero.”

He stared at her for a moment longer before grunting in understanding, but she noted with some annoyance that his eyes had not drifted even a _little_ downward when she’d let the covers go. However, the idea that she, as a woman, would be irritated by a man _not_ staring at her breasts seemed silly enough to make her let go of the feeling. Plus, she reassured herself, he had paid _plenty_ of attention to them earlier, and she was sure they could go without repeat compliments for the moment.

Nonetheless, as she slipped back into her pants and latched the hooks of her bra into place, she felt awash with a sense of déjà vu—except that, in this case, she knew that the current situation was not just familiar, but occurring all too frequently for her liking. Staring at her white blouse—which would most certainly need to be cleaned and ironed again—bunched up on his black tile floor, a sense of inevitability about her circumstances overwhelmed her.

“Water?”

“Yes, please.”

She knew the query was more a formality than anything else, but she answered anyway, silently wondering if he actually ate or simply lived off water like a plant. She threw on the blouse without bothering to button up the front, strolling up to the kitchen table with her dark red bra comically revealing itself between the two opened flaps of the shirt. Normally she wore so many layers of clothing that it didn’t matter what colour underwear she had on underneath; recently she had taken advantage of that fact when he came to see her at her home or she to his apartment, as was the current case. 

His nose crinkled a little at her lazy re-dressing as she sipped the ice water he’d poured for her, ignoring his stare from where he stood by the fridge.

After a minute of this terse staring, however, she gave him a small look of exasperation.

“Yes, Heero?”

He only placed his glass on the kitchen counter, and then took her by surprise as he came to stand before her, his Prussian blue irises linked with her own. His gaze quickly moved down to her open shirt, making her breath hitch in her throat; to her frustration, however, he merely began buttoning the blouse back up again, disregarding her obvious frown at his actions. 

When he finally did look at her again, acknowledging her irritation, he explained:

“It was unbuttoned.”

By all rights she should have smacked him for such an obvious and inane answer—in fact, her face seemed to twitch with a number of unspecified emotions as she glared at him, his own expression stoic as usual.

But the more she thought about what he had just done and said, the more she found herself unable to help the little grin of amusement that began to form at the corners of her lips. God, he was so _stupid!_ So _idiotically_ blunt! Who had programmed him that morning to say such _absurd_ things? ‘It was unbuttoned’—could there be any other line that encapsulated so well the preposterousness of Heero Yuy’s behaviour?

She burst into peals of laughter at the thought, startling him completely; he was even more surprised in the next moment when she threw her arms around his neck, displaying an affectionateness that had been absent from her just minutes earlier. Sensing his shock, she pulled back briefly only to draw him in for a kiss, smirking against his lips all the while. 

He returned her embrace after a moment, but the gesture seemed more obligatory as a way of easing his confusion than one borne of pure regard. She dropped her smirk a little, resting her forehead against his as she closed her eyes, feeling the light quickening of his heart against her chest.

“I love you, Heero.”

This time the pause was short just before his arms tightened around her, drawing her in closer, though he said nothing in reply to the same confession she’d made a dozen times or more before.

Had it been just a few months ago—no, maybe even a few weeks—she probably would have been satisfied with that raw physical response alone. She would have dismissed his silence for his general inability to put his feelings into words, and she would have been thankful for the warmth of his embrace. 

But as she felt him against her, his breathing measured and his arms strongly securing her within his hold, she knew that none of what would have been good enough even the day before would suffice then. 

She wanted—no, she _needed_ —more.


	2. 10 August, A.C. 197

Relena wanted to smile a little in relief as she came to her last page of notes, her face a perfect picture of calm among a sea of curious reporters at the monthly press conference.

“As you are all probably aware, the Quarterly Report of the Mars Commission was published just yesterday, and I’ll be happy to address any questions or concerns you may have regarding its contents.”

Her press officer stepped up to the second microphone on her right-hand side. “The Vice Foreign Minister will now be taking questions.”

A wave of hands immediately went up, and a chorus of “Vice Foreign Minister!”’s quickly followed. The press officer paused before selecting a younger woman with a striking bob of black hair and sharp green eyes in the front, a serious but warm expression spreading across her features as she realised she’d been selected.

“Vice Foreign Minister, according to the Report the terraformation process is projected to cost significantly more than originally outlined. How do you propose to raise the additional funding needed to continue?”

Relena recognised the woman as Gertrude ‘Gertie’ Black of the  _ESUN Herald,_ having been interviewed by her at least fifteen times since assuming her father’s old position.

She assumed a serious tone as she replied. “Thank you for your query, Miss Black. I have already been in contact with many members of the ESUN parliament regarding this issue, and while it appears that the expense of terraforming is considerable, I am confident that the scientific and civilizational value of the project will be taken into account in future discussions of funding. As for now,” she offered, “I am pleased with the progress that has been made in recruitment and in the stable operations of the ships currently orbiting Mars.”

Another wave of hands shot up as she finished, and the press officer motioned toward an older man in the back. “Go ahead, Bert.”

Bert Edström of the conservative-leaning  _The Earth & Colonies Weekly_ looked a little graver than his younger journalistic counterpart, and he pushed his thin, wire-framed glasses up on his nose as he spoke. “Minister Darlian, you say you are confident that the ‘scientific’ and ‘civilizational’ value of terraforming Mars will be enough to increase public and parliamentary support for the project. However,” he continued in his sceptical tone, “recent polls show that among citizens of Earth, support has dropped from 75 to 63 per cent in the wake of the problems experienced by the Mars engineers in February, and that it has fallen even more precipitously among the colonists—from 58 to now only  _30_ per cent.”

The older man looked back down at his notes for a moment before going on, “Moreover, critics of the project have recently—”

“Bert, we all know the polls. Do you have an actual  _question_ for the Vice Foreign Minister?”

A few of the other media representatives chuckled at the press officer’s interruption, being no fans of the older man either, and Bert frowned, obviously displeased. Relena stepped in to defuse the situation, nodding at the man.

“No, Mark, it’s all right—Mr Edström, please, continue.”

Mark looked annoyed by her actions but said nothing, slipping back into the background. Bert gave Relena a begrudging look of respect before continuing, coughing as he regained his composure. He glared lightly at Mark for effect.

“ _Moreover,_ critics of the project have recently alleged that ESUN’s pursuance of terraforming Mars distracts from rebuilding our relations with the colonies and the Earth itself, as many regions remain mere rubble after the war. How would you and the other members of the Mars Commission respond to these charges, Vice Foreign Minister?”

Relena kept herself from twitching with a frown, annoyed a little by the facetiousness of the question. Of course she was aware of what her critics were saying—Bert Edström being chief among them, having written the very words he was citing in the latest edition of his publication. She plastered a diplomatic smile on her face, brushing off her irritation as she imitated her older brother’s calm, collected demeanour.

“The Mars Commission is well aware of these criticisms, and it takes all feedback on the project very seriously,” she began, though she could feel his apprehensive stare on her all the while. “I will be the first person to admit that it has not gone as smoothly as hoped, but then, I don’t think anyone expected this process to be easy.” A hint of regret etched itself into her brow, though she hid it well. “Obviously, the incident in February was unfortunate, and we have taken every extra precaution since then to ensure that all crewmembers aboard the orbiters are properly equipped to handle any future outbreaks or technical errors.”

She circled back to the main thrust of his question, her eyes hardening in conviction. “ _However,_ I personally reject any allegation that the Commission, ESUN or myself have given terraformation priority over post-war reconstruction or Earth-colony relations.”

Bert looked a little taken aback by how forceful her words suddenly became, having been fooled—like so many before him—by Relena’s young and innocent face. “In fact, the Quarterly Report spells out clearly that the project currently represents less than 0.3 per cent of ESUN’s budget for this year, and it is the focus of less than 3 per cent of all on-going parliamentary discussions. As for myself,” she trained her eyes on him, and the journalists around Bert swallowed nervously for him, startled by Relena’s unexpectedly vigorous rebuke, “I believe that it is perfectly natural for someone in my position to sponsor important side-projects that further the cause of sustainability and intra-governmental cooperation. As this is the case, I find it unfortunate that these facts have been misrepresented by those who would desire to manufacture drama between the citizens of Earth and its government, or between ESUN and the colonies.”

The room was deathly silent as her speech came to a strong finish, an unbelievably pacific smile settling on her lips again. “I have confidence that the publics of Earth and the colonies understand the difficulties of terraformation, and that sometimes these types of efforts, while perhaps unpopular at first, must be undertaken in order to ensure that our presence on this planet—and in the colonies—does not become unmanageable.”

An uncomfortable silence fell on the audience as she closed her eyes for a moment, opening them again to greet the intense gaze of her bodyguard from across the room, his expression never having wavered once throughout her speech. His constant presence comforted her whenever she felt unsure about the words that were spilling forth from her lips, and as she looked at him then, his blue eyes as inscrutable as ever, she felt that he had lent her his strength in that moment.

_Heero . . ._

It had been three months since he had been assigned by Preventer Commander Une as her one-man security detail, replacing her previous coterie of four guards—who, it seemed, had been sufficiently intimidated by the 17-year-old boy soldier to leave without much complaint. He had taken to the position like a fish to water, installing a whole new security system that, thankfully, afforded her more privacy. Previous to that, there had been cameras installed in every crevice of her family home, her office in ESUN headquarters in Brussels, and any other place she frequented. He at least gave her the security permissions to deactivate the cameras in her office and home if she wished to do so (though, she noted with some displeasure, she still had to clear any such actions with him first). She was surprised sometimes by his leniency in this regard; she had always thought of him as a bit of a control freak, but perhaps he had grown to trust her enough to know that she wouldn’t do anything rash.

The thought that he trusted her even a little made her want to smile, especially considering how quickly he had come to her rescue over the past couple years. First, the kidnapping by Mariemaia Barton, and then by the terrorist group Epyon de Telos just two months ago—the latter being the reason that Une had assigned him as Relena’s bodyguard in the first place. Even though the group had been revealed to be small and ineffective, the fact that she had had two attempts on her life within five months was enough to warrant Preventer-level protection.

She could admit to herself, at least, that she had been very excited when Une informed her of Heero’s assignment. Although it was only a temporary position, having him around her for most of the day, every day, for the past five weeks or so, had been something of a quiet thrill for her. It was nice to not have to chase  _him_ around all the time—not that she had the time for that anymore, anyway. Plus, she mused to herself with a little blush, he looked quite handsome in his black suit and tie, even if he was just standing around and waiting for her to finish her speeches or paperwork most of the time.

She wondered, really, if he felt any different in this position than he did in others; was this assignment just ‘another mission’ to him, or was it something more? Did he like being around her, or did he feel  _trapped_  by it, being unused to staying in one place for so long? She almost didn’t want to consider the last idea, feeling a sting of pain at the thought of him wanting nothing more than to run away from her again the first chance he got.

**“Vice Foreign Minister?”**

Relena was snapped out of her seemingly endless thoughts about Heero as she looked to her side where Mark stood with a somewhat nervous expression. She felt a little guilty, suddenly realising that her speech probably made many of the journalists uncomfortable—clearly it had hit them a little  _too_ close to home. Only Bert retained his grumpy expression, her reply having burnt him a bit. She suspected she’d be reading a nasty editorial about her performance at the press conference on her news stream sometime tomorrow.

She nodded to Mark reassuringly, and charmed the audience again in the next moment.

“Please, everyone, forgive my seriousness. I promise it won’t happen again.”


	3. 20 November, A.C. 196

She felt a small jolt to her system as she entered the Catalonia estate for the first time, the walls nearly reverberating from the opera playing from hidden speakers throughout the mansion. The effect was all the more impressive as deep pools of light shone through the tall glass windows on either side of the main parlour room, giving the space a church-like feeling.

Dorothy appeared with her usual flair as the music crescendoed to a high, the chorus booming as the owner of the estate sauntered up to the Vice Foreign Minister, her smile as scheming as ever. Seeing two guards standing just a few feet behind her, however, she frowned a little, waving them away to the waiting area.

“Go on now!” She called out to them dismissively. “Miss Darlian and I are old friends and we would like a little privacy from time to time, thank _you!”_

Relena looked at the tall blonde with some exasperated amusement as the guards reluctantly fell back to the waiting area, obviously irritated with Dorothy’s nonchalance. The young diplomat couldn’t help but smile a bit as she regarded the blonde, shaking her head, and she had to admit that she was still getting used to the idea of being ‘friends’ with Dorothy generally. Nevertheless, while their visits to each other were relatively infrequent, Relena had always liked something about the girl—perhaps it was her bluntness that attracted her, as Relena could hardly act in such a manner herself. It was nice to vent a little when they saw each other, and let Dorothy say the words out loud that Relena could not speak.

“I have to say, Dorothy, this place really seems to . . . suit you.”

Dorothy raised one of her long eyebrows with a smirk. “Oh, you mean because it’s loud and dramatic?”

Relena’s expression was serene.

“Your words, not mine.”

The reply took Dorothy so by surprise that she threw her head back, crowing in her distinctively high-pitched laughter as she lead Relena to a private sitting area a few doors down from the main hall, the music dying down as they took their seats inside. She feigned a look of hurt at the younger woman, resting her chin on the top of her hands.

“Honestly, _Queen Relena_ , you never fail to shock me!” She turned back to the desk her elbows rested upon in the next moment, pulling out one of the drawers with a grin as she found her prize. “Ah, look! Right where I left it.” Dorothy revealed a dark bottle of red wine and two glasses as she gingerly shut the drawer again. “It’s vintage, you know—A.C. 136!”

She started pouring the drink before Relena could protest, ignoring the small look of apprehension from her friend. “Oh come on, just relax for once. This was my grandfather’s; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind it if we had a little—don’t you think?”

Relena looked off to the side a little sadly. “I don’t recall your grandfather thinking very kindly of me, Dorothy.”

“That’s only because he didn’t get to know you, you _precious_ thing,” she countered with a sickeningly sweet tone, making Relena frown at her condescension. Nonetheless, once the wine was corked and set aside again, they both picked up their glasses and clinked them, taking a small sip. Relena was pleasantly surprised by its sweet flavour, taking another, longer sip before setting down her glass. She was glad that Dorothy had shooed out her security detail in that moment, secretly enjoying the private exchange.

Dorothy picked up on her friend’s quiet thrill, smirking widely. “So, it seems you’ve gotten through _four whole months_ without getting kidnapped! Is that a new record?”

Relena nearly spit out her drink as her companion giggled, glaring at her once she’d collected herself again. “It’s not as if I’m _trying_ to get myself into these situations,” she said quietly. Dorothy only sighed dramatically at her serious tone, looking bored.

“Obviously, yes, we know. Still—first those White Fang leftovers, and then those pathetic ‘Perfect Peace People’—honestly, can’t there at least be some _decent_ enemies worth fighting out there?” She mused aloud, making Relena’s frown deepen. Although Dorothy had made some progress since the end of the war—most notably in her return to civilian life managing the affairs of her family’s various investments—her love for battle and drama still made Relena uncomfortable sometimes.

Sensing her discontent with the direction of their conversation, Dorothy’s eyes gleamed as she quickly flipped topics. “Anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter who’s threatening you, since Mr Yuy and the other Gundam pilots are always conveniently around to save the day.”

There was no mistake in the girl’s mention of Heero by name, and Relena knew it, her cheeks unconsciously flushing a little at what Dorothy was implying. “I’ve already told you,” she said firmly, though her tone seemed to waver a little, “they’re always connected to the Preventers and they are the first to know whenever something happens of grave concern—”

“Involving _you—_ ”

“Involving _Earth or the colonies,”_ Relena finished with a chiding look, though her pinking cheeks said otherwise. After a pause and a long, slow drink from her wine glass, the colour only intensified, and she turned away, her tone turning somewhat resentful. “It has nothing to do with _feelings.”_

Dorothy could have cackled at the slip-up, though she settled on grinning from ear to ear at how well her plan to booze up the former Queen of the World was already working. _Baby steps,_ she told herself, continuing her line of attack with unusual patience.

“Of course not!” She exclaimed theatrically, her eyes fixated on Relena. “Why _ever_ would _feelings_ come into anything that Perfect Soldier Heero Yuy does?”

Relena took another drink, leaving her glass three-quarters empty, and seemed to miss the fact that Dorothy had dropped any reference to the other pilots. “You know it’s not like that, Dorothy.”

Dorothy batted her eyes, affecting ignorance. “Do I? Please, enlighten me.”

Relena scowled lightly, an expression that Dorothy noted was rather unbecoming on the girl’s pretty features. It certainly didn’t mesh well with her professional pink pantsuit and frilly white blouse underneath, anyway.

“I’d rather not.”

“Relena, you wound me!” She exclaimed, noticing how minimally she had to use her acting skills to get a reaction out of a clearly tipsy—if not a little drunk—Vice Foreign Minister. “I was only curious, since you seem to know Mr Yuy better than I.”

The girl’s expression became a little sad at that reply, and she paused for a while, her answer spoken in little above a whisper. “I thought I did.”

Dorothy nearly rolled her eyes; perhaps she had overdone it with the alcohol. She had hoped Relena would be a bit more forthcoming and jovial with some wine in her system, but she should have expected, really, that the serious young diplomat would be a depressing drunk.

Determined not to let Relena’s souring mood steer the conversation, she pretended concern, treading a little more cautiously than before. “What do you mean, Relena? Did something happen?”

Relena sighed, and Dorothy was relieved to see the melancholy on her friend’s features replaced by something that resembled agitation—an emotion that seemed to naturally glide across her brow in a way that the Catalonia heiress did not expect.

“Nothing in particular.”

The answer was far from satisfying, and Dorothy frowned deeply.

“What do you mean, _‘nothing in particular’’_?” she snapped incredulously.

Relena’s expression remained guarded. “I mean exactly what I said.”

It was then that Dorothy realised that the little princess had tricked her: The wine had loosened her up a little, but Relena was no less in control of her faculties than when she’d arrived. Dorothy chalked it up to Relena attending all those official functions, with their open bars and champagne flutes being passed around and refilled every five minutes. In any case, it appeared that getting any information out of her would be significantly more challenging than she had anticipated.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dorothy sighed, leaning back in the leather chair and swivelling to and fro in mock boredom. “For some reason I thought something must have happened back at that L3 colony a few months ago, what with that old secretary of yours—Christina? Christie?—betraying you, and you being dragged to the colonies in the first place—after all, you seemed so flustered when you told me about it later.” Seeing Relena’s expression shift markedly, Dorothy dug in deeper, her look smug. “And, well, to see you that way . . . it’s just so _unlike_ you.”

Her last remark made Relena crimson more than anything else had throughout their exchange; the princess wanted to bury her red face in her hands, sensing Dorothy’s unbearable smugness hanging over her like an unpleasant cloud. She remembered vaguely the conversation Dorothy was referring to, embarrassed to think that the mischievous blonde had picked up on such subtle changes in her voice and mannerisms as to ascertain that something aboard the colony had happened to perturb her normally calm demeanour.

Relena didn’t meet her friend’s knowing stare, stubbornly pursing her lips. “I already told you everything that happened then.”

“Then why don’t I believe you?”

She twitched a little, obviously getting irritated by this line of questioning. “Maybe because you’re just making mountains out of molehills, _as_ _usual?_ ”

Dorothy chortled at Relena’s poor attempt at a jibe, amused at the mere idea that the Queen of the World could have a rude bone in her frail little body. “Oh Relena, you flatter me, _really,”_ she cooed, her companion rolling her eyes. “I was merely making an observation. No need to get so defensive about it.”

Relena was getting flustered at this point with Dorothy’s calm, manipulative tone. “I told you, _nothing_ happened!” She grew redder in the face as she continued, glaring at Dorothy: “Why should I tell _you,_ anyway, when I haven’t told anyone elseabout how he—”

She snapped her mouth shut as she realised what had just come out of it, and Dorothy’s eyes shone like those of a lioness ready to pounce upon its prey. It seemed that the alcohol was having its intended effect after all—if a little bit later than expected.

However, contrary to Relena’s horrified internal thoughts as to how Dorothy might spring on her moment of weakness, the Catalonia heiress was remarkably sympathetic in her choice of words and her tone of voice, placating the diplomat somewhat.

“What’s wrong, Relena? Please, if something bad happened,” she said with worry etched in her brow, “you should feel free to tell me about it.” She placed a concerned hand upon Relena’s, and there was a gentleness to her touch that surprised her friend. “Sometimes it feels better when we talk to other people about these sorts of things, instead of suffering alone.”

There was an intense wisdom in what the young woman said, and Relena was so taken aback by the little speech—it being so unlike anything she had ever heard out of Dorothy—that she perhaps let her guard slip a little too easily, sighing as her expression relaxed. She looked off to the side again, her cheeks now glowing from the alcohol in her system.

Nevertheless, she paused for a while before she spoke again, her light blue irises shining a little as light from the outside filtered into the room from the small window above them. “When we were on the L3 colony—before I was evacuated along with the remaining members of White Fang—I ran into him briefly.”

Dorothy kept any obvious interest she had in the story to a minimum, though Relena couldn’t help but glance at the girl to make sure she wasn’t visibly enjoying the exploitation of her slight drunkenness. When she was satisfied with the blonde’s innocently curious look, she continued.

“We didn’t say much to each other—I just told him to take care of himself, and to let me—to let me worry about him.” She pinked at the memory, touching her cheek lightly with her right hand. “And then he—”

She stopped, and the blush deepened. Dorothy held back a triumphant grin, waiting patiently to see if Relena would go on; however, after almost thirty seconds of dead silence, the blonde grew antsy, her temper getting the better of her attempt to play the long game.

“ _And?_ What happened?”

Relena seemed to sink further into the pleasant warmth that coursed throughout her body, ignoring the obvious impatience in her companion’s voice.

“He nearly kissed me.”

Dorothy blinked.

“That’s _it?”_

The question came so soon, and was delivered in such an incredulous tone, as to startle the princess completely from her reverie. She suddenly came to grips with the situation she had willingly submitted herself to, and with the fact that she had just told _Dorothy Catalonia,_ of all people, something that she usually kept secret even from her _own_ thoughts. It was all enough to make her feel slightly queasy, though her annoyance at Dorothy’s manipulation and subsequent disappointment triumphed over her mild nausea.

“What do you mean, ‘ _that’s it’_ ’?” she countered. Dorothy returned the unpleasant countenance with a frown of her own, standing from her seat as she put her hands on her hips for emphasis.

“I arrange for us to meet in the comfort of my home, give you privacy from your guards, give you some of my best wine—and all you have to say for yourself, Miss Relena Peacecraft, is that he _‘nearly kissed you’’_?” She looked a little disgusted by the mere idea, huffing at the indignity. “God, you’re so boring it hurts!”

Relena stood at the jab, annoyed by the way Dorothy had so callously dismissed her confession. “Well, _forgive me_ for being so ‘boring,’ as you say,” she snapped, though the effort of standing was dizzying enough to make her sit down in the chair again. She held her forehead exasperatedly, relenting a little as Dorothy bent down, her purple eyes determined to scold the princess.

However, as she regarded Relena for a moment longer, she felt herself unconsciously soften a little. The Vice Foreign Minister sat slumped in the chair before her, looking despondent—whether over the alcohol or the situation or perhaps both, Dorothy was uncertain—and, to be truthful, the Catalonia heiress began to feel a little guilty for trying to squeeze juicy details out of her friend that simply weren’t there. She sat back down again with a sigh, her chin resting atop her palms as she stared at Relena somewhat affectionately, admiring the girl’s unexpected spirit—even if it was only inspired by intoxication.

“Do you think he feels the same way?”

Relena looked at her, surprised by her sudden interest in the subject again; not trusting her, though, she frowned, turning away. “What concern is it of yours?” she retorted, perhaps in a harsher tone than intended. “It’s nothing worth caring about.”

Dorothy’s crooked brows twitched in vexation.

“ _Of course_ I care, you idiot! Especially if that damn Heero Yuy is breaking your heart!”

It was a bafflingly candid admission from Dorothy Catalonia; one that, at other times, might have sounded like a joke if spoken in a different tone of voice. Relena couldn’t help but smile a little, relishing the moment while it lasted.

“He’s not,” she assured the platinum blonde, who nonetheless looked unconvinced by the reply. Relena shrugged at the look, remaining tranquil. “And more to the point, I don’t know what Heero feels any more than—than I understand my own feelings.”

It was a bolder and more honest confession than Dorothy could have ever anticipated, she decided; but when she spotted the pained expression that flitted across Relena’s features, she lost any sense of victory she might have had.

Pushing the bottle of wine towards Relena, she grinned a little.

“So, have you decided what dress you’ll wear to the ESUN Christmas Eve ball this year?” She flicked the girl’s nose to get her attention, taking her aback with the change in topic. “We can’t have you being shown up by Une again, after all.”


	4. 15 May, A.C. 197

The smell of smoke and melting metal bombarded her senses as she laid flat against the pavement below, coughing from the thick, polluted air that was rapidly fanning out from the explosion behind her.

Heero was quicker to stand than she, though he too coughed and squinted, the ash from the blast stinging at his eyes. He pulled her up after a moment, though she stumbled on weak knees as he led her by the arm to a small park away from the still-burning building behind them.

She covered her mouth as he set her down again, his vision clearing as he assessed the scene they had just narrowly escaped. The ESUN North American headquarters in New York had apparently been attacked by suicide bombers, though the identities of the attackers were still in question; he suspected, though, from the style of the attack, that it had been carried out by the remaining, more radical members of Epyon de Telos that had escaped arrest by the authorities a month ago. Thankfully, he noted, their strategic incompetence had only managed to destroy part of the building's basement, the rest remaining relatively intact. It appeared that there would be few casualties due to the late hour and sparse number of occupants in the building at that time, but Heero was simply thankful that he had managed to retrieve Relena in time from her temporary office on the second floor.

Emergency vehicles and personnel along with local police forces moved into the area within minutes, and where Heero might have run back into the building in the past, eager to find the perpetrators first, he knew that his current duties kept him glued to his current position. He tore his gaze away from the scene once it appeared that the situation was under control, turning back to Relena's curled-up frame leaning against a tree close by. He noticed that her work-ready, light blue skirt suit had been ruined during the escape; of course, however, she didn't pay any mind to such a thing, her eyes instead fixed worriedly on the burning building.

He observed in silent consternation several cuts on her hands, legs, and face, not to mention dirt smudging her once-perfect light brown hair. The bun she had tied her hair into that morning was undone and her matching blue bow missing entirely. Her nude stockings were also ridden with tears and holes, and it seemed that in each torn area, there was a small cut on the skin beneath. The various injuries drew him back towards her in an instant, and he inspected them carefully, making sure not to infect any of the wounds with his own, dirtied hands.

Relena was admittedly a little shocked when she first felt his light touch on her skin, the sensation jolting her out of her anxious state over the sight less than a hundred metres from them; and upon seeing how concernedly he stared at her small, insignificant cuts, her heart only raced faster. She swallowed a little more loudly than intended, wanting to curse as she felt her cheeks get hot from his closeness. Her reaction even made him look back up at her with some confusion, the boy soldier unused to the young minister being so finicky in his presence.

However, when she turned away from him, unable to meet his stare (lest her face burn off entirely), he seemed to grasp her discomfort, and he retracted his hands from where they inspected her lightly-bleeding knees. He pulled up the bottom of his white dress shirt from under the waistband of his trousers, ripping off two long strips from it and wrapping one around each cut across her knees, the pressure of the makeshift bandage on her wounds making Relena wince.

"That should stop the bleeding for now," he informed her, and she nodded, looking at him appreciatively as her blush died down.

"Thank you, Heero," she said quietly. She reddened again when his eyes met hers, continuing in a slightly more awkward way: "I mean, for everything. You're always saving me, it seems."

He shrugged indifferently. "You have to be protected."

Relena kept herself from stiffening at his robotic answer, forcing herself to smile instead as she continued in a quieter tone.

"Still . . . I'm glad it's  _you_  doing it."

Confusion flashed across his usually stoic features as he considered her last comment, though, after a moment, he seemed to absorb her meaning, and his stare relaxed somewhat.

Although he said nothing in return, Relena could have sworn, as their gazes locked, that he had accepted the small drop of affection for him that her words had inadvertently revealed. There was something in those Prussian blue depths that reminded her of the way he'd looked at her all those months ago, just before he'd pulled her towards him out in the darkness of space.

She paused, smiling with pinking cheeks, and wondered if he had seen the same thing in her gaze—and if he, too, remembered it as vividly as she did.


	5. 30 July, A.C. 200

“Still living in this government apartment? Can’t you get anything better, now that you’re a big-shot Preventer? And why are we going up the stairs? It’s so _high up!”_

“What do you want, Maxwell?”

“What, so you won’t even call me by my first name anymore?” Duo asked, his long braid swinging behind him as he marched through the entrance to the apartment, tiredly plopping down onto Heero’s couch. “I didn’t think we’d already become such strangers, _Agent Yuy.”_

Heero frowned in annoyance, retrieving the jug of chilled water from his fridge. “Water?” he offered automatically, if somewhat reluctantly, to his surprise guest.

Duo leaned back and sighed. “Yes, please!”

Heero didn’t bother putting the glass down softly on the coffee table in front of Duo, standing apace as he watched the former Deathscythe pilot lazily grab his water with obvious annoyance. Duo sighed loudly again, grinning a little.

“I guess I should feel flattered that I’m one of the only people you act even slightly human in front of,” he joked, ignoring Heero’s withering glare. “Speaking of which, how’s the princess doing?”

Heero shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “I haven’t seen her for some time now.”

Duo snorted, startling his companion a little. “Yeah, right.”

Heero’s eyes narrowed in on him again. “Why are you here, again?”

The young American rolled his eyes. “I _told_ you already, Hilde and I are here on vacation for a couple weeks.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“What do you mean, _‘what does that have to do with’—”_ Duo suddenly stopped, chuckling a little as he leaned back again, relaxing. “Ah, I almost forgot who I was talking to for a second there.” He eyed the Wing Zero pilot with unbidden amusement. “You’re right, Heero. It’s got nothing to do with you—I just felt like coming over and being annoying.”

Heero glared at him. “You broke through the encryption on my system to see my schedule.”

Duo tried to look innocent, holding his hands up in the air. “So kill me! I was only curious to see what Une had you doing since you ran away from Manila.”

The other pilot’s frown deepened, his expression darkening. “I didn’t ‘run away’ from the mission. I was granted a transfer back to Brussels to help head recruitment for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” Duo brushed off the defensive reply, a small smirk playing on the edge of his lips. “It was just a coincidence that you came back on the same day as the princess’s birthday last year, right?”

Heero didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, it was.”

Duo frowned at the quickness of the reply. “I bet you didn’t even bring her a present.”

He paused. “I brought her a card.”

“You’re hopeless, you know that?”

Heero only glared in reply.

Duo stood from his seat, sighing again. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Hilde and I are engaged now,” he informed him casually, stretching his arms behind his back, “and we’re probably gonna get married next spring. No big deal.”

Heero’s eyebrow rose, indicating a slight degree of surprise at the news. “Are you expecting me to be in attendance?”

Duo could have pulled his braid off at the monotone query.

“ _Yes,_ you robot, we are ‘expecting you to be in attendance’! _Yeesh!”_ He exclaimed, irritated. “You make it sound like we’re asking you to go to a funeral, not a wedding!”

Heero shrugged again, offering no reply this time.

Duo frowned, having had just about his fill of the other pilot’s deadpan attitude toward his presence. He somehow regretted coming here without Hilde, and felt slightly jealous that she was visiting Relena while he was stuck here with the human statue.

As he observed the other agent’s tense demeanour, however, he sensed that there was something else bothering him—something Duo couldn’t quite place. His behaviour, in retrospect, seemed a little cold . . . even for Heero.

He cocked his head curiously at the young man. “Heero?”

Heero suddenly realised that something in his manner was giving away his uneasy state of mind—one that had arisen long before Duo Maxwell had made his surprise appearance. He frowned, clearing his mind as he turned back to Duo, his eyes stony.

“You’ll have to notify me at least three months in advance of the ceremony so that I can make the proper arrangements to attend,” he said in his usual unemotional manner, relieving Duo a little. The American nodded with a wink.

“Of course, of course—I wouldn’t want to mess up that busy schedule of yours, seeing as how you only have a couple nights blocked off every month for _‘personal affairs.’”_

The remark caught Heero off-guard, and Duo grinned to himself. “I don’t suppose these ‘affairs’ involve anyone else, then?”

Heero frowned, still trying to figure out how the jovial pilot had broken into his personal records. “What are you implying?”

Duo’s self-satisfaction was evident in his dismissive reply.

“Oh, nothing—I just found it interesting that Miss Darlian had the same times blocked off in _her_ calendar, too.”

“How did you gain access to her schedule?” Heero demanded angrily, surprising Duo somewhat with the slight outburst of emotion. Of course, in the case of Agent Yuy, an ‘outburst’ amounted to little more than his arms tensing and his voice rising, but it was still quite out of place for him.

Nonetheless, Duo merely raised an eyebrow, acting unaffected. “You’re not the only one who can hack into a security system as weak as hers,” he replied coolly, though this only seemed to irk Heero more.

“ _I_ designed that system.”

Duo feigned surprise. “Oh, did you? Guess you’ll have to try a little harder next time.”

Heero’s temper was quite obviously boiling by this point, but the braided pilot ignored it, continuing: “Honestly, Heero, if you’re seeing Relena, I’m the _last_ person you need to hide it from.” He smiled furtively, taking some pleasure in annoying his fellow pilot to this extent. “Besides, it’s not as if it would come as a surprise to me—or to _anyone_ with two eyes, really,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows a little. “I’m only surprised that it took you guys this long to realise it yourselves.”

Heero’s immediate instinct to deny the charge was tempered by the fact that, in some strange way he could never admit aloud, Duo was right—what _was_ the use in trying to convince the idiot otherwise? He wondered how Duo, and perhaps the other pilots, would have picked up on his ‘relations’ with Relena; somehow he related it back to the smug expression Sally Po had worn when he’d requested the transfer from Manila back to Brussels a little over a year ago.

Nevertheless, he could hardly allow for Agent Maxwell’s assumptions to start flying around Preventer headquarters without saying anything about it himself.

“My relationship with Miss Darlian may not be of a strictly professional nature, but I hardly think it necessary to give an explanation of it here _.”_

Duo couldn’t decide, at first, whether to be taken aback by the confession, or merely entertained by the way it had been delivered—he chose the latter, knowing that such a reaction would only irritate his fellow pilot more. He chortled, and Heero’s glare returned.

“Agent Yuy, you _dog!”_ He barked with laughter, catching Heero off-guard. “So is this ‘not of a strictly professional nature’ relationship the _real_ _thing_ , or are you guys just fooling around?”

Heero looked confused by the query, though he surmised from Duo’s suggestive tone that it was inappropriate, and his eyes narrowed again.

“I don’t understand your meaning.”

“Of course you don’t,” Duo countered with a sigh, exasperated. Served him right, he supposed, for attempting a joke at Heero’s expense that relied on topics that were probably out of the stoic pilot’s immediate purview of knowledge. He brought the glass of water back up to his lips, closing his eyes wearily. “Nevermind, then.”

Heero frowned, suddenly catching on to what Duo had been asking. “Why would you refer to sexual relations as ‘fooling around’?”

Duo nearly spit his drink out as he lurched forward in surprise, swallowing slowly as his eyes travelled up to meet Heero’s.

“Uh . . . well . . . it’s just a saying,” he mumbled, containing the belly laughter that threatened to rise up at his companion’s glower. “Anyway,” he continued after a moment, “I was only kidding, you know.”

Heero didn’t look convinced, but Duo didn’t seem to care, his expression suddenly becoming more serious. “I hope that you aren’t just ‘fooling around’ with her, though,” he said in a slightly warning tone. “The princess deserves better than that.”

Seeing something akin to recognition flash across the other pilot’s expression, Duo’s eyes narrowed uncharacteristically, his arms tensing as he rose from his seat, standing directly across from Heero. “She thinks the world of you, you know,” he said with some fondness for her evident in his voice, surprising Heero. “She always has. And if you’re taking advantage of that just to save yourself the _‘inconvenience’_ of having to be in a real relationship with her,” he said, glaring threateningly, “then you’ll have _me_ to answer to.”

The blue-eyed soldier’s expression darkened.

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know more than you think I do,” Duo parried, his cobalt irises dancing with the challenge of the moment. “Hilde keeps in pretty close contact with Relena, so she notices when something is up,” he said, “and even _I_ can see that something—or some _one_ —is making her unhappy recently. Have any ideas as to who that might be?”

Heero turned away, staring out the window of his apartment and saying nothing. The move rankled Duo, and he moved closer.

“Well _I_ do,” he began in a low tone, “and if I’m right—and _you’re_ the one hurting that poor girl—you’ll be sorry for it, Yuy.”

Heero’s eyes flashed with anger, but he didn’t turn around, his gaze fixated on the ESUN Parliament building a few blocks away. “Is that all, Agent Maxwell?”

Duo huffed a little at his tone. “Yeah, that’s it,” he monotoned back, and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

As he watched him exit the apartment building and walk back to his car, the anger left Heero’s eyes, and a familiar chill ran through him.


	6. 25 December, A.C. 197

_“Quick, Relena, go to him—I’ll handle this.”_

The Vice Foreign Minister just barely caught the rushed whisper of Dorothy Catalonia as the blonde heiress made her loud entrance into the small group of ministers and their wives and partners surrounding Relena, nearly shoving the former princess out of the way as she threw her arms up comically.

“Isn’t this just a **lovely** Christmas party! Oh, Mrs Darlian always has such wonderful fruit cake!”

Her outburst was just distracting—and somehow charming—enough to allow Relena to slip away from the group towards the direction of the door to the basement of the Darlian Estate, and she sighed with some relief as Pagan guarded her from the guests’ prying eyes, ushering her silently through the doorway with a determined look about him.

“Is he still here?” She asked almost breathlessly, and the faithful butler nodded, gesturing to the staircase below as he opened the door just wide enough for her to pass through. She gave the older man an appreciative peck on the cheek for his help before taking a long breath, patting down her formal green dress and straightening her pearl necklace as she began her descent.

As the door closed behind her, she seized up a little, the thought of what was to come hitting her like a ton of bricks.

_He’s leaving._

She followed the light and the sound of him packing away his belongings as she carefully descended, doing her best to remain calm and collected.

_Will I see him again?_

Her heart betrayed her moment of reassurance as she reached the last step, seeing his back turned to her as he laid his spare clothes and weapons down in his suitcase. A flood of memories of the past six months with him ran rampant across her mind’s eye in a moment; one memory, in particular, made her heart clench to even think of it.

_It hasn’t been the same since then._

She recalled it merely as ‘the incident’ in her own, private thoughts, though she often wondered what Heero would call it if he were to dwell on such sentimental things. It seemed that since it had occurred only two months before, everything about him had changed . . . as had the very nature of their relationship.

The trust in each other that they had built, the respect, even the small hint of _affection_ —everything was different now.

And in that moment, seeing the Preventers’ jacket on his back and sensing his tension at her presence, she wished it had never happened.

“You’ve been assigned to Manila Base, I hear.”

He paused only for a brief moment as her voice broke through the wall of unease between them in the brightly lit, central security office of the estate, though he continued packing shortly afterward.

“Yes.”

The answer was so curt as to make Relena feel a little hurt by it, though she knew that was not its intended effect. She kept a small smile on her lips even as he continued to keep his back turned away from her, forcing herself to remain cordial.

“Will it be a long mission?”

He unloaded and took apart one of the larger guns on the table beside him.

“I expect to be stationed there for at least a year. However, considering the situation on the ground,” he elaborated, “it is doubtful that the mission will be accomplished in that period.”

Relena swallowed her urge to cry.

“Will any of the others be there?”

He repeated the process with another gun.

“Agent Chang is already at the base.”

She smiled, wiping any trace of tears away from the corners of her eyes.

“Ah, you won’t be by yourself then. That’s good.”

He didn’t bother replying to her, taking her statement as a throwaway comment. She, however, was not about to let the conversation wither away, and she stepped closer to him, standing at the next table over. When he did not move away, she felt somewhat emboldened.

“It’s a shame, though, that you’re leaving tonight,” she said a little more brightly. “You should really stay until New Year’s, at least.”

“You know that’s not possible, Miss Darlian.”

His immediate, blunt answer—combined with his formal address—made her face burn with embarrassment, if not a bit of anger. He hadn’t called her by her first name in months, and his persistence in this behaviour—to refuse to say it then, even on the very night of his departure from her service—rattled her.

She watched in silence as he shut the suitcases and zipped up his duffel bag, signalling his readiness to leave, though she was unsure of what to say.

“Goodbye, Vice Foreign Minister.”

**“Wait!”**

Her courage returned to her as he bowed his head a little in farewell, and she closed the gap between them, standing directly behind him as he paused at her command. She paused for a little while as they stood in that way, her blue eyes searching for his.

“You told me once that I ‘had to be protected’,” she said softly, “so—why are you leaving?”

There was only a short pause this time before his reply came, its iciness as evident as before.

“I was only assigned to act as your _temporary_ personal detail,” he said succinctly, “and today marks the end of that assignment.”

Her brow furrowed, and she frowned.

“Your original assignment was for a _year,”_ she corrected him. “The only reason it is ending today is due to your _personal_ request for a transfer.”

He finally caught her narrow look at the terse remark, though his eyes were strikingly hollow in comparison to hers.

“You know that is of no consequence now, Miss Darlian,” he said plainly, “especially since everything is already arranged for the transfer to Manila.”

She reddened, her voice rising as her eyes became locked with his.

“And would you have arranged for all of this if—”

Relena cut herself short, touching her cheek lightly as if to remind herself of the current situation. It was clear, however, as she allowed her gaze to meet his, that he knew what she had been trying to ask—and that the unspoken question had broken down his cold, stoic front.

He looked away before replying, and though his words were hardly comforting, she noticed how much softer his tone had become.

“I am sorry for my indiscretion during that time, and my inappropriate behaviour towards you, Miss Darlian. _However_ ,” he continued, his voice hardening with conviction, “I can assure you that nothing which has passed between us would have had any impact on my decision to leave.”

It was the answer she had expected, but not the one she wanted.

_“Heero,”_ she said softly, catching the edge of his jacket sleeve with a gloved hand.

His eyes seemed to waver a little as he watched tears begin to dribble down her cheeks in uneven patterns, and her face redden from the deep sadness that his departure had engendered.

Seeing her so distraught, he did not move away—nor did he return her affectionate gesture, instead choosing to simply hold her gaze.

Her fingers gripped his sleeve a little tighter.

“Heero, promise me—promise me you’ll come back?”

The pause was so long as to crush the very air from her lungs as she awaited his reply; but as he pulled himself away from her, slinging his bags and suitcases over his shoulders, she knew what he would say.

“Goodbye, Relena.”


	7. 18 June, A.C. 199

"Heero! Why don't you come over and eat something? You must be hungry."

He glanced over at Relena from where he stood, leaning against the single tree on the open plain facing the ocean. He had been looking out at the sea for a long time by then—somewhat under the pretense that he was 'keeping watch' over the area for any curious passer-by's—and so her sudden interjection surprised him somewhat.

Up to that point, Relena had been content to sit at the foot of the same tree, reading the latest ESUN parliamentary budget report with her white flats casually kicked to the side and her feet dug into the grass below. Obviously, however, after an hour of such dry reading, the young diplomat had tired of it; now she looked expectantly at Heero as she squatted down near the picnic basket she had packed for their day out.

He consented after a moment of considering her smiling gaze, though he remained standing as she withdrew the two sandwiches she'd made earlier that morning, handing him one with a single, raised eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

Heero nearly frowned at the question, but her probing stare made him relent. He sat cross-legged next to her under the shade of the tree, his eyes relaxing as the sunlight reflecting off the ocean waters subsided a little. He took the sandwich from her, and almost reddened at her blinking, eager expression as she waited for him to take the first bite.

When he did, and his expression didn't change, she looked so crestfallen that he forced himself to reassure her.

"It's good."

Her eyes brightened so quickly that it took him by surprise, and he was equally startled when she gave him a grateful kiss on the cheek.

The gesture, however, somehow relaxed him, and he allowed himself to sit closer to her, and even run his fingers through her long bangs. She leaned into his touch with pinking features, and when his hand left her face, a contented smile remained stuck to her lips. She ate her sandwich without complaint afterwards, looking back down at the report between bites.

Heero, on the other hand, could hardly keep his eyes off of Relena, and though he tried not to make his staring too obvious, it was more than evident what was on his mind.

He remembered how she had pled with him for the past month to make time for just a short daytrip to the Mediterranean and enjoy the sun, air and water; and he remembered how strongly he had resisted the idea of just such a trip, given her busy schedule, the lack of security associated with it, and his own affairs as assistant head of recruitment for the Manila mission at Preventer headquarters. Everything about the proposal just seemed so poorly thought out and impulsive that Heero had to wonder if Relena had been unwell when she'd suggested it in the first place.

But, as he had learned since his return from his year and a half in the wilderness of Southeast Asia, he was weak to her requests, especially those that afforded the two more time alone together. He had spent so long away from her, and trying to forget what he felt for her, that it now seemed as though his mind was consciously rejecting any efforts he might make to keep them apart at all.

A palpable, if not at times overwhelming, sense of longing for her plagued him—and the knowledge that his attachment to her had grown so strong disturbed him more than he was willing to admit.

Yet as he watched her daintily nibble on the tomato, cheese and spinach sandwich—her light brown hair secured into a ponytail by a large teal bow, a yellow cardigan draped casually over her shoulders, her bare toes wiggling among the blades of glimmering green grass—somehow, all his uncertainty about those feelings dissipated, and he found himself once more completely comforted by her presence.

In fact, it was not unlike the sensation that had struck him on that warm evening in April, when he saw her again for the first time in so many months; even though her bright blue eyes had been discoloured with anger and shock at the time, being back in her presence had calmed him like nothing else had in a long while.

After a moment, Heero took the small, pink notebook that rested at Relena's side, examining it as she looked at him curiously.

"Heero?"

He ignored her questioning gaze, perusing through her handwritten notes on the budget that she had taken earlier. He couldn't quite understand why she continued to prefer using the book over the tablet supplied by ESUN; then again, there were still many things that he didn't understand about Relena, even after so much time in close contact with her. Seeing her jean-clad legs splayed out in front of her, her tablet balanced lopsidedly on her right thigh, he took the opportunity to lie down next to her, resting his head against Relena's other, unoccupied leg.

She jumped a little in surprise at the sudden move; soon enough, however, he felt her leg relax, and even warm at his closeness. He continued to glance through her notes, though his browsing was admittedly absentminded.

As the minutes passed in silence between them—the only sounds being the occasional tap of her nail against her tablet screen and the soft ocean breeze gently blowing across his reclined body—he felt himself succumb to sleep.

Relena paused, sensing his breathing slow; and then, with a smile, she looked out towards the sea, shading her eyes from the burning rays of the sun.


	8. 25 July, A.C. 198

**| 25 July, A.C. 198 |**

Heero Yuy stared through the clear plastic window of the camouflaged tent as heavy rainfall cascaded down all sides of it, obscuring his view of the grey jungle outside.

Wufei Chang glanced at his distracted partner out of the corner of his eye as he pulled out the remaining bullets from the military-grade rifle in his lap, it being the last of the latest pile of illegal arms that they had confiscated to be officially decommissioned. He frowned at the thought of lugging all the various guns and explosives back to the base in the morning, only to repeat the process for what seemed the thousandth time afterwards; their work in the region had become tedious and, to some degree, redundant over the past few months.

It was all made worse by the fact that it was the rainy season in the Philippines; besides the inconvenience to their travel due to the muddy terrain, swarms of insects, and wet clothes and gear, it had also hampered their progress with capturing rebel soldiers and their weaponry. More often than not, Wufei found himself stuck in just such a shoddy, pitched tent as the one he currently occupied, brooding about one thing or another and unable to find the peace of mind necessary for proper meditation.

And yet, it had been evident to Agent Chang since he had been assigned to Manila that the mission would probably be fraught with frustration, mindless repetition of tasks, and lodgings and equipment that would be inadequate to deal with the problem at hand. Lieutenant Po had indicated as much when she originally gave him the briefing on the mission, expressing her private concerns to him that the Preventers were not well-established enough as an entity to tackle the numerous guerrilla forces—and their various factions—that had been sighted in conflict hotspots around the globe since the end of the war.

It didn't help that the rebels in Southeast Asia in particular had decided to camp out in the wilderness, as opposed to hiding in the densely-populated inner city of Manila as they would have in the past. Even with all that modern technology had to offer (although the technology that  _they_ had access to was not in any sense of the word 'modern'), the dense rainforests, mountainous terrain, humid climate, and spotty records of rebel encampments were proving serious obstacles to the mission's success.

(Of course, ESUN's insistence that no rebels be killed or maimed in the process was also a major hurdle, though he could hardly voice such thoughts without getting a lengthy lecture from Sally or Une about the merits of peaceful capture over more violent methods.)

But then, he thought, it probably could have all been at least bearable had he not found such an unwilling—and oftentimes disagreeable—partner in Heero Yuy.

Wufei had noticed as early as Heero's mere  _arrival_ in Manila that something was off about the usually stoic, unreadable pilot, and though it had caused him some consternation at the time, he had simply brushed it off, taking some contentment in the fact that he and Agent Yuy had a comfortable, silent rapport that lent itself well to their current partnership.

It was not until two months into the mission that he realised what, exactly, caused his fellow commanding officer to suddenly fall into long, obstinate bouts of angered silence, or to become irritated at the slightest interruption to his thoughts; and when Wufei discovered the source of this uncharacteristically irate behaviour, it irritated him to the point that whatever exchanges they may have casually had to become reduced to the absolute minimum interaction that was necessary in order to get their work done.

He had known of Heero's brief employment as Relena Peacecraft's personal bodyguard through Sally, and though he had thought little of the assignment—as he rarely gave a thought to the possibility that Heero would do something in any way unrelated to the immediate mission at hand—Lieutenant Commander Po's sly grins and smiles when she spoke of the two had always hinted at something more.

More to the point, he had borne the brunt of her irritableness following Agent Yuy's new assignment as a fellow officer in Manila, though he could have hardly attributed her behaviour at the time as being provoked by some kind of sudden split between Heero and the former princess of the Sanq Kingdom. In fact, the mere  _idea_ that a Preventer commander such as Sally Po would get upset over the insignificant personal lives of those around her bothered him immensely, and he had made sure to tell her as much when he'd finally realised what was going on.

He remembered with a particularly strong sense of annoyance that warm February morning, the long rainy season giving way to pleasantweather in much of the region; he had meditated at sunrise outside the base near a river, and felt more peaceful than he had in months.

* * *

_It was strange, he thought, the sight of all the staff hurrying into the main control room; and when he entered, they were all crowded around the largest screen, watching with dread as news transmitted over from ESUN headquarters in Brussels._

_Gertie Black was reporting from just outside the doors to the parliament on a sudden outbreak of a mysterious illness aboard several of the ships participating in the Mars terraformation project, halting temporarily all new installations and technical upgrades, remarking that all news media were awaiting an official statement on the outbreak from ESUN and the co-chair of the Mars Commission, Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian._

_An image of Relena in her formal suit appeared just as Wufei noticed that Heero Yuy was nowhere to be found; he left the room in the direction of his fellow agent's barracks, though he was admittedly somewhat surprised when he found him there, staring intensely at Relena's picture on the monitor inside his room._

_The former pilot did not even acknowledge Wufei's presence, much less give him a customary glance—but, remembering the seriousness of the news, Agent Chang allowed his partner to absorb the information in silence for a moment._

_It was only after a few minutes passed that he ventured a question._

" _Have you heard anything from Peacecraft about this?"_

_Heero's eyes tightened, though the rest of his face remained stony._

" _No."_

_Wufei frowned a little, but said nothing. After a few more minutes of silence, Heero finally looked up at his partner again, his eyes hard._

" _Is there something you want, Agent Chang?"_

_Wufei bristled at the sudden inquiry, annoyed at the idea that Yuy found his presence irritating. Meeting the other man's gaze, however, he had pushed down the feeling a little._

" _We'll be heading the next reconnaissance in twenty minutes' time," he said sharply, ignoring Heero's piercing look. "I expect you to report on time with the trainees."_

_Heero said nothing in reply, and looked back at the screen; this time, however, his blue eyes glazed over, and his expression became vacant._

* * *

In spite of the testy exchange and his unusually distracted look, Wufei had thought little of it for a while afterward.

But as the days pressed on—bringing with them news of the illness, what it was, the death toll, and the reactions from the members of the Mars Commission—he became increasingly wary of Heero's unpredictable mood swings and how much they correlated with the terraformation project incident.

He recalled seeing, if only for brief moments, the intensity with which Agent Yuy would watch the news . . . and, more specifically, how he would lookat  _her_  whenever she appeared onscreen to make a statement about the ongoing debacle.

It was at this point that everything came together for him—Heero's inexplicable moodiness, his faraway expressions, his short-temperedness towards the Preventer trainees (and even with Sally)—and when it did, he felt no end of spitefulness towards the Wing Gundam pilot for what Wufei perceived as his most inexcusable weakness:

His attachment to Relena Peacecraft.

He had endlessly mulled over in his mind how someone as intellectually and physically capable as Yuy could become prey to the vagaries of romantic sentiments, especially considering how compromising those feelings would be in the position which he'd formerly occupied. He supposed that that was the very reason why Heero had transferred to Manila in the first place—realizing this, however, only made Wufei resent his presence more, thinking that his fellow agent was cynically using an important security operation upon which to vent his misguided feelings for a  _woman._

In any case, Wufei had long ago stamped out such impulses after the death of his young wife, Meilan; or, at least, that was what he determinedly told himself every time he overheard gossip or rumours going around the base about the "relationship" between him and Sally Po.

He shook off that last thought, placing the last gun to the side after having scanned it and coded it into the Preventer database. Finally, he looked at Heero again, and his eyes narrowed.

"Finish up your tagging, Agent Yuy."

Heero finally turned from the opaque window, the sound of the rain beating down from outside rousing him from his endless, vicious cycle of thoughts. He glanced briefly at Wufei before looking down at the remaining guns sitting beside him on the padded ground below, and without being urged again, he did as his fellow officer asked.

And all the while, a single memory seemed to haunt the pilot's every cold, mechanical action—the memory of the day when he knew he could no longer stay by her side.


	9. 12 October, A.C. 197

Relena sighed as she plopped down in her chair, relaxing once she'd heard the sound of the door to her office sliding shut behind Heero.

It seemed that she had just been through the millionth meeting that month trying to convince ESUN to give more generous loans to the colonies to upgrade their basic climate control infrastructure in an effort to build up the trust between the various governing bodies, but every meeting brought with it an even more determined resistance from all sides. Some colonies wanted the help, but the large majority were still bitter, preferring to self-finance the research and development needed for the upgrades. ESUN, meanwhile, was more than happy to acquiesce to the more stubborn colonies' demands for non-interference, being unenthused with the idea of loaning its former adversaries the large sums of money being called for.

It was an altogether frustrating experience, though nothing out of the ordinary given her generally exhausting tenure thus far as Vice Foreign Minister. Sometimes she wondered, had she kept the Peacecraft name, if people would take her ideas more seriously than they seemed to at present. Then again, she reminded herself somewhat remorsefully,  _she_ was the one who had agreed to be on the Loan Commission in the first place, being interested in the particular technology under discussion for possible future use in the Mars project.

Besides that was the influence of Milliardo, who, along with Lucrezia, lectured her from time to time via video transmission that she needed to know about the potential pitfalls and strengths of terraformation, given her position. Of course, they had their own motives—the space near Mars was their new home and served as the means by which Milliardo could escape the deeds of his past as Zechs Marquise relatively unscathed and start afresh. Needless to say, he hardly wanted to hear any suggestion on Relena's part that the project might be in jeopardy for lack of funds.

She looked up at her bodyguard with a weak smile as she shook herself free from her thoughts, leaning back tiredly.

"I wish I understood better all the technology and terminology related to the project," she mused, glancing down at the rows and rows of documents visible on her desk's tabletop projection system. Her eyes strained a little to see the text headings on some of them, and suddenly she wished that paper had not been phased out of official government use a few years ago.

Heero stared back at her with calm eyes, standing near the window.

"You will understand it in time," he said without a hint of doubt.

Relena smiled a little at his reassurance, happy to have his confidence. She swiped a finger across the top of the table, hiding all the documents for the time being as she leaned her elbows on the smooth glass, her chin resting in her hands.

"You're a great help to me," she said quietly, and then closed her eyes. "I can't believe you're only around until next May! What will I do without you around to stop me from embarrassing myself?"

The question was meant to be rhetorical—and the tone flippant—but neither came across that way, and a small silence settled over the pair.

After a moment, Heero only placed a hand on her shoulder, and his expression was softer than she'd seen it in a long while.

"If you need me, I'll be there."

He paused, and a heat entered his hand briefly before he brought it back to his side, turning away from her.

"You have to be protected, after all."

Relena's cheeks were hot at the comment. He had repeated it too many times to count over the course of the past few months, and yet—as sterile as it sounded—she knew it wasn't. The mere temperature of his hand burning through her silk shirt indicated as much, anyway.

She swallowed, smiling through her discomfort.

"Well, even if that is the case, I don't want to hold you here," she pretended to be cheery, though her words seemed to surprise him. "You have your own life to live—and I know being my bodyguard was probably not in your long-term plans."

Her attempt at a grin crumbled at the sight of his hardened, mysterious expression; she had hoped to say something that would reassure him, but it appeared that she done the exact opposite.

Relena closed her lips promptly, her face heating again as she sought a way out of the unusually awkward exchange.

"I'm going to make coffee. Want some?"

She felt silly mere moments after asking the question, seeing his raised eyebrow—she had been well aware of the fact that he drank water and water  _only_ for years, and she usually  _never_ offered him coffee—and so she took her exit quickly, blushing as she brushed past him to go to her office wing's private kitchenette.

Once safely at the counter, she breathed a small sigh of relief. Nevertheless, as she programmed her drink preferences into the coffeemaker, her cheeks remained pink at the thought of her bodyguard's stony blue eyes.

More than embarrassment over her own clumsy words, however, Relena felt confusion about his expression at her joke. He had seemed somewhat . . .  _sad_ when she mentioned the notion of him moving on with his own life (or at least as sad as Heero Yuy  _could_ look), and startled that  _she_  would be the one to suggest it. It made her wonder, once more, about where his feelings truly laid; was he merely her guard and her friend, or—as she had hoped all along—had there been something  _more_ than that in his mind?

It had been nearly impossible to tell with Heero, even knowing him as she did. She thought that their near-kiss the year before had been an indicator of a stronger affection, but after it, there was precious little to go on. Sure, there had been hints here and there—the way he looked at her whenever she got even the slightest injury, or how he sometimes let it slip that he was protecting her for reasons unrelated to work—but she could never make much out of those moments. It had been difficult for her to come to grips with his toughness, but after spending the last few months with him, most of her confused feelings had gone away.

At the same time, however, where her initial sentiments of girlish attachment had withered away, new ones— _stronger_ ones—had arisen in their place, in no small part thanks to Heero's job of acting as her official shadow. She had gotten  _used_  to him, and she feared that that was even  _worse_  than when she had been constantly pining away for him from afar.

_What will I do_ _**without** _ _him?_

Of course, the answer was obvious—she would go on living her life, new bodyguards would be hired, and she'd continue to lobby ESUN for funding for Mars's terraformation and for the Preventers—but all that was only on the surface.

Beneaththis, the truth was that she felt terribly and utterly  _alone;_  in fact, her loneliness had only really subsided with Heero's arrival, and the mere idea that he would be leaving her service so soon—with no real guarantees of coming back unless she 'needed' him, whatever that even  _meant_ —made her heart clench with pain.

_What if I need him—but he doesn't need_ _**me?** _

" **Relena? Your coffee's done."**

She nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of his voice behind her, her eyes darting to the mug beneath the coffeemaker. The dark brown liquid was still steaming inside of it as the machine beeped loudly in the background, and she wondered how she'd completely tuned out the incessant noise.

"Oh, so it is," she said absentmindedly, withdrawing it from the hotplate. "Sorry—I must have drifted off."

He said nothing in return, though as she turned around again, and their stares locked, she could feel the intensity of his gaze boring into her. It made her feel incredibly self-conscious, especially considering where her thoughts had been only a few moments earlier. She tore her eyes from his, her cheeks reddening again.

Finding the drink still too hot for her liking, she placed it on the countertop, grabbing an empty glass from the cupboard in the meantime. After filling it with water, she presented it to Heero with a smile.

"See—I  _do_  remember certain things from time to time," she remarked, grinning a little as he took the glass from her. "I envy your discipline," she continued, drawing his attention again. She tapped the edge of her mug absently as she spoke. "I rely on caffeine too much, I'm afraid."

He merely raised an eyebrow as he placed his glass down. "You could always just take the caffeine in concentrated amounts, if that's what you're after."

She brushed off the suggestion. "No, no. I like the flavour of coffee too much to betray it for some pill," she said, finally taking a small sip from her mug. After a moment, her smile melted away, and a memory came to her suddenly, turning her expression somewhat bittersweet.

"Anyway, the smell reminds me of my father—he always had coffee beans freshly ground when he was home."

The ensuing silence between them was long enough to bring Relena's mind back to her musings previous to Heero's entrance; perhaps, in a moment of weakness, she allowed them to take shape, and her lips moved even as she could not control what they might say.

"Do you remember our conversation on the L3 colony last year?"

He was quiet for a while before he spoke.

" **Yes."**

Her head tilted to the side, though she still would not look directly at him, her eyes burning holes into the countertop.

"And you remember—you remember what happened before I went back to the shuttle?"

There was a shorter pause this time.

"Yes."

Heat seemed to smother her body and irradiate out from it all at once, but she pressed on; and it was in that moment that she finally met his gaze, her light blue eyes peering deeply into his darker ones.

"Heero, at that time, did you—did you mean to  **kiss** me?"

His stoic expression dissembled, and a light blush forced its way into his cheekbones.

"Hn."

Taken aback was an understatement—she felt more as if someone had knocked her upside the head. But, seeing this rare opportunity for vulnerability from him, she continued.

"Then . . . why did you  _stop?_ "

He looked away, his blush darkening.

"Because I thought—I thought you didn't want it."

The reply—said with an uncertainty that Relena didn't think Heero could possess—cut straight through her. Her gaze suddenly grew pained, and she unwittingly took a step closer to him, her look imploring.

"But I wish you hadn't stopped then," she said softly, her eyes large with years of untold feelings as he turned to look at her with surprise. "I've wished that for a long time."

Nothing else needed to be said; in a moment, one of his hands had come up to stroke the side of her face, the other gently grasping her upper arm.

" _Relena . . ."_

She'd always loved the sound of her name when he said it, even when he did so in a chiding manner. But when she heard him say it then—his body close to hers, his breath very nearly intermingling with her own—she was overcome by the strangest, most sublime sensation she'd ever felt, and she suddenly gripped the fingers that gently stroked her face tightly in her own, bringing them to her lips.

_I love him. I_ _**love** _ _him._

She felt her senses depart, buried as she was in her secret passion during those few moments, and her face had never been so hot as when his fingers escaped her grasp to hold the back of her head.

Her eyes closed as his lips met hers—at first a little unsurely, but quickly learning how to move—and she responded eagerly, feeling none of the shyness that she thought she would during her—and  _their—_ first kiss.

From that beginning, their encounter suddenly became overwhelmed by the force of their repressed desires; their kisses grew more forceful and desperate, and Relena felt herself being pushed against the countertop as he leaned into her, his bangs falling into his eyes. She savoured every moment, wrapping her arms securely around his neck as she observed—with some blissful, dazed amazement clouding her vision—that his face was as red as hers, and beneath his lashes, she could see only a deep yearning for  _her._

_Don't ever leave me._

The mug crashed to the floor, and she felt a sudden burning heat run up her leg.

She was still stunned by the interruption of gravity when Heero stooped to the ground, examining the areas along her calf where the coffee had spilled. She blinked in surprise at the feeling of his still-warm hands tracing her skin, though his ministrations now felt more detached than just moments before. Nonetheless, her cheeks remained red, and she lifted her heels a little off the ground, frowning as coffee dripped off them to the tile below.

He was standing again not a second later, having obviously concluded that she hadn't been seriously burnt; but, she noticed with concern, his expression was entirely different.

Heero looked practically statuesque as he retrieved the first aid kit from the top shelf, setting it down on the counter next to her.

His eyes were, once again, unreadable.

"You'll need to apply some of the burn balm."

She watched his sudden shift in demeanour in confusion, her lips still hot.

"Heero?"

The small hint of hurt in her tone was enough to break his stiff countenance, but only a little. He said nothing, but turned away from her wide-eyed, confused look. She was baffled by his silence, and determined not to let him leave her sight.

"Heero,  **look** at me."

There it was. The one thing she had never wanted to see in his eyes.

_Shame._

She felt tears coming on without so much as a word from him, though his look was enough to break her spirit on its own.

"Heero, what we did—what we did wasn't wro—"

" **It was not appropriate, Miss Darlian."**

She froze at the formal form of address.

_Miss Darlian?_

He continued without pause: "I apologize for my indiscretion. I assure you it won't happen again."

He bent down to gather the broken pieces of the mug together as she stood, still shocked, staring into the space where he had been standing. When he had thrown them out, he didn't bother to look at her.

"Once you're cleaned up, report to the main desk; I'll drive you home as per usual from there," he said briefly, and walked out of the room.

Her knees suddenly feeling weak, Relena leaned against the countertop, her hands gripping the sides of the first aid kit until they nearly turned white.

_I've ruined it. I've ruined_ _**everything.** _

Relena's shoulders shook as she cried.


	10. 3 September, A.C. 197

"Ah! This fresh air feels so good!"

Heero only raised a single eyebrow as Relena took in a deep breath, examining their surroundings with a stupidly happy smile on her face.

She looked at him, her eyes bright with excitement. "Now, let's find somewhere to camp for the night."

He only grumbled in agreement, still feeling completely disinclined towards the entire 'camping' trip that Relena had arranged for herself months ago. In fact, it had been a fixture in her calendar long before he had become her bodyguard, and so he was forced to begrudgingly go along with it. Nonetheless, he had put some controls in place—he made sure the campsite was no more than twenty miles from the nearest Preventer base in North America, and that all the accompanying crew were equipped with all the necessary safety and emergency knowledge needed.

This 'crew' of three extra guards—their presence being insisted upon by Commander Une—especially irritated him, since he had previously thought Une to have enough confidence in his abilities to be able to handle Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian by himself. He had unconsciously glowered at the guards throughout their training session pre-departure, and that seemed to keep them in line.

He fell just short of Relena's skipping pace as he surveyed the surrounding forest for any signs of movement, ignoring the extra security detail following them. She suddenly stopped after a few more minutes of searching, pointing triumphantly to one spot.

"Here! This will be perfect."

Heero looked at the dry, flat patch of grass below, nodding in assent as he waved the other guards over.

"Set up the tents and then go find some firewood," he nearly barked at them.

Relena frowned, her hands resting defiantly on her hips. "No, no, Agent Yuy,  _I'm_ in charge of all of that! What's the fun in camping if someone else is doing everything  _for_  you?"

Heero blinked in confusion at her remark, though she walked past him, her light hair bouncing against her back even while tied in a braid. She promptly grabbed the supplies from the equally surprised guards, dropping them to the spot she'd picked.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. You just keep watch," she told them confidently.

Her bodyguard frowned. "Minister Darlian, don't be stubborn."

She sighed, kneeling down to the ground as she reached for the tent poles and smiling somewhat wearily at the other guards.

"Gentlemen, would you give us a moment?"

The men seemed eager to leave their cantankerous boss in her hands, and she contained a grin at the thought of these men—all older, taller, and generally more menacing-looking than Heero Yuy—being intimidated by him. Heero maintained his stiff composure, though it became slightly more relaxed in their absence.

Once they were out of sight, she spoke in a softer voice, addressing him informally again.

"Heero, you must understand," she said, smiling as she notched together the various tent poles, "I'm not new to this. I used to go camping with my parents as a child." She slipped the fabric of one corner of a tent over the connected poles, her smile easing. "Not that we went very often."

Heero tried to imagine Mrs Darlian and the late Minister Darlian outfitted in the same outdoorsy garb as Relena was in that moment—a dark green, long-sleeved button down shirt, brown cargo pants and heavy brown boots—and found the idea almost comical, given the wealth and renown of their family.

However, seeing Relena in that outfit, he thought it somehow suited her; the few wisps of hair that had escaped from her braid and floated down to gently frame her face, slightly flushed from working in the chilly autumn air, seemed to complete the picture.

He reddened a little at the turn his thoughts had taken.

"You still shouldn't be doing this by yourself," he chided her.

She smirked and tossed him a tent pole suddenly, catching him off-guard.

"Fine by me. I could use an extra hand."

He withheld a grumble at her gesture, though he, too, was soon on the ground, and before long all the tents were set up.

She wiped her brow a little once they were finished, smiling at their progress. "Good! Now let's see to that firewood." Looking over her shoulder, Relena added: "Shouldn't you call the others back?"

Heero seemed surprised by her comment, at first; then, realising the reason for it, he turned away to hide the creeping blush on his cheeks, pressing his earpiece.

"Report back to camp," he said briefly into it. Regaining his composure, he looked back at Relena. "They'll be here shortly."

She nodded. "I suppose we'd better wait until they get back to go look for wood."

They didn't have to wait long, as the guards hadn't travelled far from the campsite. As they stood to attention, Heero's glower returned.

"I will be accompanying the Vice Foreign Minister to search for suitable firewood," he informed them curtly. "Stand watch here. However, if we do not return within thirty minutes," he continued, giving them a warning look, "fire off the alarm."

" **Yes, sir!"** they answered in unison, making Heero grimace slightly. He hated the militaristic bravado of the guards trained in the academy formerly operated by OZ, though he could hardly voice such complaints to Lady Une without her chastising him for his lack of compassion (or whatever else she felt he was missing that day).

Relena sighed before laughing a little to herself as she and Heero began to walk around the campsite.

"' _I will be accompanying the Vice Foreign Minister to search for suitable firewood,''_ " she imitated his words in a low tone, making him glare lightly at her. She merely giggled, continuing: "You have to admit, Heero—it does sound quite funny."

He threw a piece of wood he had been inspecting to the side, though it appeared that he was more annoyed by Relena's teasing than dissatisfied by the quality of the bark.

"I'm merely ensuring the highest level of security possible so that the Vice Foreign Minister can enjoy her holiday," he said unemotionally, though Relena could read through his expression easily.

She smiled, adding a small branch to the pile of wood already in her arms. "I'm sorry, Heero," she apologized, facing him sheepishly. "I know you're just doing your job, after all." She sighed again as she turned to kneel by another spot, picking through a mess of dirt and leaves for more wood. "And I know I'm being selfish by bringing you and the others all the way out to the Canadian Territory, so far from home."

He paused in his own searching, and she gazed at him curiously. His eyes were serious, but kinder than before.

"You're not being selfish," he told her, his hold on the branches relaxing. "You deserve a holiday more than anyone."

She blushed at the compliment, not expecting it at all, and broke their connected stares.

Gripping the branches tighter to her chest, she laughed a little, swallowing the lump in her throat. "That's very kind of you to say, Heero," she said awkwardly, her cheeks smouldering, "but, anyway, I think we've found enough wood for now, don't you?"

Heero would have openly disagreed with her about that assessment, seeing how small the bundles in their arms were; but, when he caught sight of her rosy cheeks, he guessed that the heat of the afternoon sun had become too much for her. He reluctantly grunted in agreement and grabbed a few more pieces of wood as they made their way back to the camp.

* * *

She was silent.

In fact, she'd been that way since their search for firewood, and it slightly worried Heero—after all the anticipation and happy chatter surrounding this camping trip, she now seemed quite subdued about the whole thing.

_Perhaps it brings back too many painful memories._

He had wondered if, indeed, the idea of "reliving the past" was inadvisable for her, given how recently she had lost her father (and the violent manner in which he had died). Not to mention the fact that she wasn't exactly making this trip with close friends or family, but instead with a bunch of stoic, silent bodyguards who were more or less completely disinterested in the "camping" part of the trip (or, in their case, job).

Not that he wanted the others around, either—they were more of a nuisance than anything else, constantly needing direction from him despite their older age.

Still, he was surprised that she hadn't been able to at least convince Dorothy Catalonia to come along; much as he disapproved of their apparently close friendship (given Dorothy's past behaviour), he knew that the tempestuous blonde heiress was likely more exciting company than himself.

Nonetheless, he was thankful that the others had left to do a quick survey of the surrounding areas now that night had fully set in and the fire that Relena had built was beginning to burn more successfully after a few false starts (he would have accomplished the feat without trouble, but she'd insisted on doing everything herself). It somehow comforted him to be alone with her, as those were the circumstances he was most used to.

_Is that **really**  the reason?_

Heero brushed away the rogue thought, though his gaze subsequently fixated itself on her figure, slightly slumped over as she sat in front of the fire, prodding it with a branch to try and stoke the flames. He frowned, thinking the sight a pathetic one compared to the strong, forthright Relena Darlian he knew at work.

She caught him watching her from the other side of the fire after a few minutes, though her glance was brief. She looked back into the dancing flames wistfully, her stoking turning into mere pokes.

"I should have brought some marshmallows," she mused aloud, and Heero was jolted to attention, surprised by her suddenly speaking again. "They taste so nice over a fire."

His expression was unchanged. "I've never had them."

Her eyes widened. "You've never had  _marshmallows?"_ she asked incredulously, though, upon second thought, she smiled, her eyes meeting his. "I shouldn't be surprised," she said. "You don't like sweets anyway, do you?"

He shrugged. "I've never understood their appeal."

Relena giggled, and though the sound was a little unusual given how quiet she'd been up until then, he decided that he didn't mind hearing it again.

"You're like Pagan, then—he hates anything sugary." She grinned a bit, continuing: "He would never let me eat too much of the candy I got on Halloween, either. He'd hide it from me, and only give me a piece or two at a time after I'd done my schoolwork or helped with a chore around the house."

Heero looked at her questioningly, not truly understanding the context (Halloween) nor the rites associated with it (candy-giving/consuming); however, he couldn't say he was surprised by the story, as the steadfast butler had always seemed an ascetic man, satisfied by simple things and a stickler for discipline. Having a sweet tooth didn't fit the old man's image, he thought.

(Neither did the pink car, but then he somehow attributed that more to Relena's strange tastes than Pagan's.)

Relena stretched her legs out, sighing. "Anyway, I'm sorry for going on. You must be bored."

He stared at her pointedly. "I'm not bored," he said plainly. "I was just . . . worried."

She blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the reply.

"Worried? Why?"

Suddenly, the shirt collar around his neck felt tighter than before.

"You were quiet earlier—I thought that perhaps I had said something to upset you while we were collecting firewood."

She smiled after a moment, her cheeks reddening at the thought.

"No, nothing like that," she said reassuringly, her stick falling to the wayside. "I just get quiet sometimes, when I'm thinking about certain things—you don't need to worry."

" **I can't help—"**

He paused, and averted his gaze towards the fire.

"I  _have_ to be concerned, Miss Darlian. It's my job."

Heero looked up after a moment, and was slightly startled to find Relena watching him with wide eyes; when their gazes met, however, her face crimsoned, and she looked away again.

Recently, he had been noticing that same look on her face more and more, and had often wondered what it meant. Thinking back to the first couple of years that he'd known her, he couldn't remember ever seeing it there before—instead, much of his previous memories of their strange relationship centred mainly on the emotions of worry, fear, and relief. In fact, the thought that he had once been dead-set on killing her with his every waking step now seemed entirely bizarre, especially given their current circumstances.

And yet, in spite of the evolution of their interactions, there had never been anything more than those feelings to complicate matters . . . at least until one year ago.

_I wanted to kiss her._

That tiny impulse—the one he had always been too reluctant to act upon—had made itself well known on that day, the now long-gone L3 colony still fresh in his mind. It was a day he still thought about all too frequently, the memory of that one moment constantly threatening to overtake his rational thought. Any close contact he'd had with Relena since then brought him back to that time almost immediately, confusing his past with the present and forcing him to acknowledge the array of difficult feelings that accompanied his current position.

_I still **want**  her._

His desire for her was painful sometimes, especially given the closeness of their working relationship; and yet, with every step he took towards acknowledging his feelings for her, he took two backwards in self-flagellation for even daring to surmise that such relations were possible between them.

After all, she was Relena Peacecraft—Vice Foreign Minister of ESUN, former Queen of the World, heir to the Darlian estate—and he was no one, with no name, no past, and no future.

Everything hinged on the present for him, but for her—she always had something to look forward to, and, most likely, some _one_ before too long. And when that time came, he would be powerless to stop her; after all, he would hardly want to ruin Relena's chance for happiness should she find it, as he'd sworn to protect her for that very reason.

And yet, as his Prussian blue eyes met hers, his face burned.


	11. 7 April, A.C. 199

"Miss Relena! Oh, or should we call you  _Vice Foreign Minister Darlian_ now?"

Relena smiled warmly at her former classmates, ushering them into her family estate just as she had so many times before.

"Relena is fine," she replied with a wink.

One of the girls, Marie, looked adoringly at the young minister, pressing her hand tightly into her own.

"Oh, it's been too long since we last saw you! Emilie and I were so happy to receive your invitation—"

"And even  _happier_ that we could make it this year," Emilie finished with a broad smile. "Anyway, Miss Relena, we've brought gifts—though I'm sure they won't be very impressive to you at all."

Relena brushed off the remark, bowing her head in thanks as Pagan took the gifts and placed them in the larger pile of presents at the far end of the room.

"I'll treasure any gifts from you two," she smiled, her blue irises sparkling under the light of the chandelier above the entrance. She gestured towards the bar and adjoining area where plates of hors d'oeuvre were being circulated by various servers. "Please, feel free to explore a bit and enjoy yourselves! We'll talk more shortly, I'm sure."

"No time to talk now, then?" A third voice interrupted from behind her, and she turned around, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Julian?"

"Happy birthday, Miss Peacecraft," the young blonde-haired man said with a small bow, kissing the top of her hand gently as he did. She blushed despite herself, unused to such displays of old-fashioned chivalry. Nevertheless, her instinct to correct his words was stronger than the one that would admire his gesture.

"It's Miss Darlian, officially," she said with an obligatory smile, "but I would prefer it if you called me Relena, as we already know one another."

Julian Martens looked more handsome than she remembered from their school days, and his attitude was certainly more confident. It amused her to remember the nervous boy from a few years ago, seeing him now; however, he didn't catch her musing, his cheeks pinking from her informality.

"You're far too kind, Miss Da— _Relena,"_ he said. "I'm afraid I can only repay that kindness with some trinket I've brought for you, though I know that's hardly a fair exchange."

Pagan took the gift in question from him not a moment later, and Relena suddenly felt somewhat overcome by the sensation that all these compliments and polite exchanges had an element of absurdity to them.

Nonetheless, she put on her pleasantest face, bringing Julian together with Marie and Emilie towards the centre of the main hall.

"Don't be silly. It's my pleasure to host you all for the evening, and, hopefully, for many more after this."

This comment obviously signified the end of the discussion, though Julian seemed miffed by Relena's sudden exit. She didn't take notice of his expression, however, and moved mechanically back to mingling with the hundreds of guests present at the estate for the occasion. Relena wanted to cringe as she felt the heat of a dozen bodies congregating around her, though that same warmth hardly seemed to touch her.

Not that it could; she had felt cold, and empty, for months—if not  _years_ —by then.

_I wonder what he's doing right now._

She silently reprimanded herself for the thought just as soon as it had flitted through her mind, doing her best to keep up with the conversation and questions about the progress of the terraformation project. She instinctively knew that she should be happy for any support she could get for it, and that their endless questions were, indeed, a positive sign of the project's growing public support, but . . .

_It's been almost two years._

About one year and five months had passed since she'd last seen Heero Yuy, and she hated herself all the more for remembering the exact number of years, months and days since his departure. In fact, in spite of her extremely busy schedule—attending sessions of parliament, special committee meetings on Mars and colonial relations, taking trips all over Earth and to the colonies—time seemed to have passed as if watching sand slowly slip through the neck of an hourglass.

And all the while, she had been privately receiving bimonthly reports from Sally on the mission that he was on, being at once both enthralled by the stories of his and Wufei's exploits chasing illegal arms traders in the jungles of southeast Asia—and incredibly saddened that he had not called her once to tell her about those things himself.

His lack of contact had made her believe for a long while that  _she_  was the one to blame for their unhappy parting, and she wondered if her last words to him that Christmas Eve in the security room had driven him away forever. After all, in the few video links she had established with Sally over the past couple years, the lieutenant commander  _had_ mentioned how dour Heero's mood had been since the beginning of the mission, and she couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for that.

Of course, her feeling of culpability had gradually dissipated over time, giving way to acceptance of his decision to leave and of her important role at ESUN. She had gotten on with her daily life and business, went out with her work colleagues, visited Dorothy and occasionally indulged in her international gossip, and visited her mother as often as she could. She'd even reunited with Quatre during her diplomatic visits to the colonies, with Duo and Hilde on a few occasions when they'd been on planet, and with Trowa and Catherine when their travelling circus came to Brussels a month ago.

She couldn't even complain much about her job, since she generally enjoyed wide popular support for her initiatives in the parliament, and it had thankfully been a long time since she'd last been kidnapped, drugged, or generally been the victim of any other such incidents of Earth-colony discord that would lead to major confrontations in space (much to Commander Une's relief).

And yet, unexpectedly, her acceptance of this life without him eventually turned into a far more embittered feeling.

_He ran away._

Her eyes tightened unconsciously, some small sign of anger, perhaps, working its way into her brow.

She had grown tired of feeling in the wrong for everything that had passed between them—there were  _two_ people involved, after all, and so, surely, the other had some blame to carry.

In this case especially, Relena thought, he had not acted bravely; instead, Heero had chosen to live his own life, regardless of the manner in which he had left her.

_Selfish._

It pained her to associate such an adjective with the former Gundam pilot, especially after being so close with him. And yet, she could not get it out of her head, knowing that there was more than just a kernel of truth to it.

She gripped the fabric of her pale yellow gown, grimacing slightly.

"Minister Darlian?"

Relena looked up, startled, at the man who had spoken. After a moment of regaining her bearings, she smiled sheepishly.

"I apologize, Mr Davies. I think the champagne must be getting to me."

Thankfully, the surrounding party was immediately charmed by her girlish excuse, and though her lips moved to answer their queries in a professional and gentle manner, her mind was filled with nothing but her bitter, wearied thoughts.

* * *

Another half an hour or so seemed to pass in this way before all the guests had arrived and settled in, with most even sporting reddened cheeks earlier than she had expected. She was disappointed, however, that nowhere among these guests were her close friends, since they had all conjured up one reason or another for being unable to make it that year.

She was most surprised by Dorothy's reason—something about being on a "business trip" to one of the colonies—especially since the colony in question was the same one where Quatre lived.

(Not to say that she suspected something was going on between them, but she had noticed a pattern of Dorothy visiting that particular colony over the last year or so—and each time with a different "potential investment" to investigate.)

Sighing to herself at the thought, she excused herself from the guests, figuring she had done enough mingling to earn herself a short break next to her mother by the neatly-stacked pyramid of gifts across from the fondue fountain. Taking a quick glance around them, she paused before resting her head gently on the elder Darlian's shoulder.

The older woman chuckled, patting her daughter's head.

"Ah, I can't believe my sweet little Relena is already nineteen years old! Time flies," she said wistfully.

Relena looked up just enough to show her mother a soft smile before giving her a hug, unlatching herself a moment later.

"Nineteen years old and ready to retire from politics," she joked lightly, making Mrs Darlian laugh.

"Your father said that when he was twenty-two at the start of his career," she remarked, "but that sentiment was obviously short-lived."

The gentle smile that had graced her mother's lips still held deep traces of grief that stirred Relena's own deeply-hidden sentimentality about her late father, though she could hardly give in to the urge to reminisce just then.

She breathed in slowly, ridding her mind of the memories that threatened to flood it. She smiled again at her mother, trying to cheer her up.

"I just hope I'm half as accomplished as father was, whenever I do decide to give it up."

Mrs Darlian gave her daughter a small squeeze on her exposed shoulder.

"Don't be modest, dear. You know your father and I are both very proud of you—whatever path you end up choosing."

That ending statement seemed a bit strange to the young minister— _What other path would I be on?,_ she thought _—_ but she had no occasion to press her mother further on it, being suddenly interrupted by Pagan.

He leaned forward a little uncharacteristically, and spoke quietly as if in confidence.

"Miss Relena, 'Duo Maxwell' has just arrived and is seated by the bar. As you are prior acquaintances," he added in an even more hushed tone, raising Relena's suspicion that Pagan was hinting at something more, "I thought I should come and inform you  _personally."_

Relena furrowed her brow at the comment (and his emphasis on the last word in particular), though she thanked him for it all the same, excusing herself from her mother's side to travel cautiously towards the bar.

_I thought that Duo told me months ago that he and Hilde couldn't make it._

She stopped a few paces short of the bar, and her heart stopped.

_**Heero.** _

Her blue eyes were transfixed on his figure.

" **Happy birthday, Vice Foreign Minister Darlian."**

She wanted to scream, cry, or shout in a rage—but instead, she merely took a step forward.

"Agent Yuy—what a surprise."

Dressed in a formal tuxedo, he seemed just as conscious of the throngs of people surrounding the area as she, and continued the pretense easily. He handed her a plain, sealed white envelope.

"I've brought you a card."

It occurred to her that it was the first time he had ever given her a birthday present  _in person,_ though the timing was such that she could hardly take pleasure in that knowledge.

In fact, had she not been such a practiced politician, she would have choked on her next words.

"Oh, how kind of you," Relena said, her throat constricting even as she spoke intelligibly. She fought the urge to rip the card in half. "I didn't realise you were finished in Manila already."

Heero's steady gaze held her own, though her discomfort was plain to him.

"I'm not," he corrected her. "I'm on leave to help lead recruitment for it from Brussels with Lieutenant Po."

Relena's eyes widened a little, but, shell-shocked as she was, she could only swallow the stone in her throat.

"I see," she replied, just barely comprehending the situation enough to continue their small talk. "I—I'm sure you two will do a fine job."

When he failed to respond to this, she felt her body begin to burn under his impenetrable scrutiny, his eyes seeming to look into her very core as they always did.

Those eyes had changed so little, she thought, though the rest of him had grown up in the meantime. He was taller now, his skin tanner, and his build a bit more filled out; in the suit he wore that night, he looked remarkably like some famous film star.

But none of that mattered to her in that moment.

_Why are you here? Why_ _**now?** _

"Oh, Miss Darlian! There you are!"

She could barely contain the fuming feelings in her own heart from exposing themselves to the Foreign Minister as he tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her attention away from Heero's cold blue eyes. She smiled, though her lips contained none of their usual gentility.

The Foreign Minister didn't catch her gloomy mood, however, and gestured towards the small orchestra tuning their instruments near the centre of the room.

"I believe they'll be playing the first song shortly, Miss Darlian. You should go and dance! You're only young once, eh?"

Relena bristled at his words, trying her best to ignore Heero's staring at her bare back (as she had suddenly realised how much skin was exposed by her dress). Nonetheless, she knew the Minister's words were less an invitation and more of a push, and she felt her lip twitch as it curved into a smile again.

"I'd be happy to—but only if  _you_ would be my partner."

The Foreign Minister blushed, his face positively beet-red from her invitation in combination with the champagne he'd been drinking all evening.

"I'm flattered by the offer, Miss Darlian, but I'm afraid I don't dance at all."

Relena could have  _heaved_ her sigh of relief right there and then, not actually having any desire to dance—and  _especially_ not with a work colleague who was several decades her senior. Not that she wasn't used to such obligations; in fact, she expected many more such "offers" to dance before that night was over, whether she wanted them or not.

And, just as she expected, the minute one older man turned down her offer, another stepped in.

"Miss Darlian, would you—"

"Of course," she cut in quickly though the pleasantries, taking the Minister of Food Safety by the hand without another word.

She let the music consume her thoughts, burying the searing pain she felt at the knowledge that  _he was there,_ in that room, just watching her from afar—and she was unable to confront him.

Then again, she thought, even if she had the chance . . . what would she  _do?_

She had pondered that for so long that now, when he was actually there, she had no clue as to what she would say to him. After all, what  _could_  one say to a ghost who appears and reappears at will?

Or—even more difficult—to  _Heero Yuy?_

A tumult of emotions, ranging at once from shock to fear to excitement, swirled within her as she danced in circles around the floor. Finally, however, this cycle led back to something even more familiar to her than all of those—something she barely had the will to suppress, even as all the lights of the ballroom shone down on her brilliant head of golden brown hair.

 _Anger_.

That had never gone away—in fact, catching glimpses of him while she danced only made the feeling more intense, and for once she almost didn't feel brave enough to keep up the awful charade that she was enjoying herself.

" **Miss Relena, can I have the next dance?"**

Julian Martens cut in just before the previous song had finished, a boyish smile on his face. She felt somewhat thankful for his entrance, even if inappropriately timed (as her current dance partner, the Minister of Industry and Technology, looked quite offended by the interruption).

Plus, she mused, it would definitely be a change of "scenery," as it were, to dance with someone her own age.

"Certainly, Mr Martens—if you'll just wait a moment," she said, not forgetting to finish out the rest of the current dance so that no one would get hurt feelings over the affair.

Once the music came to a lull, she walked over to Julian, who stood by the rather uncomfortable-looking pair of Marie and Emilie. She wondered briefly why they looked that way, but, as she promptly walked back with her former classmate to the dance floor, she didn't have the chance to ask.

Julian threw back his blonde bangs, grinning uncharacteristically.

"I've been waiting for the chance to dance with you  _all night,"_  he said, making her redden a little.

"Oh, I hope not! I'm really not that talented a dancer," she modestly replied.

"That's not true—you're brilliant. As would be expected of the  _Queen of the World."_

The emphasis on her former title made her want to cringe; people still referred to her as that from time to time (mostly in the press and tabloids), and she hated it, the eponym making her remember her misery while a prisoner to the Romefeller Foundation's machinations.

She smiled instead, hoping he wouldn't take notice of her uneasiness.

"So, Julian, are you still in school? I haven't heard from you in a long while."

He seemed more flattered than she had expected from the question, though he answered promptly.

"Yes, I'm in university now," he said, and continued with a small blush, "hopefully once I graduate, I can pursue a political career—like you."

Relena's brow raised in surprise. "Oh, really? That's great news! We need more intelligent people like you in ESUN," she complimented him with a smile, not thinking for a second about how her remarks might be interpreted.

His face became implacably red.

"Ah, Miss Relena . . . perhaps you've felt the same as me?"

She blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean, Julian?"

He spun her around so that she caught Heero's glance, and that fleeting moment made her shiver. He had been staring at her so powerfully as to make her suddenly realise the situation she currently found herself in: twirling in the arms of her classmate (whose cheeks were pinker with inebriation than she'd noticed at first) who had just, apparently, confessed something strange to her.

Julian drew her in closer, and Relena visibly stiffened in his grasp.

" _You can't fool me, Relena,"_ he said into her ear, dropping his previous formality.  _"You've been flirting with me all night."_

She tried to remain professional. "I'm not sure what you're referring to, Mr Martens," she said plainly, though he clearly did not take the hint.

"Oh come on,  _Miss Relena,"_ he said with a grin, gripping her even tighter to him, "The smiles? Encouraging me to pursue politics? Accepting my offer to dance?" One of his hands began to wander dangerously close to her rear.  _"I know what you're after."_

He was now so close to her that she could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it made her recoil slightly. She pushed back from him a little, though she didn't separate entirely, not wanting to attract the attention of the other guests.

"I believe you're confusing politeness with something more, Mr Martens," she warned, frowning. "But I can assure you—I didn't mean  _any_  of what you're implying."

Ignoring her tense tone, he pressed on, drawing her close again as the music picked up in the background.

"Please, Relena—there's no need to be shy around  _me,"_ he smirked, letting his free hand wander down again.

Relena finally rolled her eyes in disgust, and she stretched out her arm, planning to push him away once more.

"Mr Martens, I—"

" **Sir, perhaps you should sit down."**

She nearly jumped in surprise at the sound of Heero's voice next to her, having almost entirely forgotten about him in her attempts to ward off the drunk Julian Martens. Heero had grabbed the young man's rogue hand from where it had snaked its way down to Relena's very lower back, his fingers securely wrapped around its wrist.

Julian frowned, extracting himself from Heero's unusually strong grip with some effort.

"And just who the hell are  _you?"_  he snapped, though a look of recognition began to grow on his face moments later.

Heero remained quiet, and Relena felt too stunned (if not a little relieved) by his entrance to say something in his defence.

The silence gave Julian enough time, however, to piece together the specific memories that would allow him to identify the man in front of him.

"You . . . you're that weird kid who transferred to our school a few years ago, aren't you? The one who ripped up Relena's invitation to her birthday party?"

Heero's eyes tightened at the reminder while Julian merely scowled, continuing: "Anyway, I don't care  _who_ you are—you shouldn't go and interrupt people whenever it suits you. It's  _rude."_

Heero's stare coarsened.

"Sir, you've been drinking heavily tonight. You should sit and rest, or perhaps  _go home_  and recover."

The edge to his words was noticeable, and surprising—Relena looked at him directly after he uttered them, somewhat unbelieving that Heero could sound so forceful over something he normally wouldn't care about.

Julian reddened even more, and his loud tone began to cause a commotion as the other guests paused to watch the events unfold.

"What is your problem, kid? Why don't you just  **fuck off?"**

Relena wanted to hide her face in her hands, almost feeling more embarrassed at the ridiculousness of the argument that the two boys were having than at the fact that they were being watched by the entire party of attendees.

However, when she saw Heero tense in response to Julian's threatening tone, his body moving into an aggressive stance—the kind she always saw him take before a fight—she was immediately alarmed.

" **Heero!"**

He turned to look at her, and in the next moment, he was down on the ground, some blood spattering onto the marble floor below.

A few of the guests gasped and Marie and Emilie shrieked at the sight; a briefly triumphant Mr Martens, meanwhile, was quickly escorted out by security guards nearby (although not without his vigorous protests along the way).

Relena rushed to Heero's side on the floor, ignoring the red bloodstains that bloomed in the fabric of her dress as she helped him sit up again. She winced upon seeing the injury on the side of his mouth, and an instinctive guilt at being the cause for his distractedness stung at her.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently, her hand on his arm.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, causing her to relax her tight grip on his bicep. She blushed as she stood, feeling a little useless as the on-site doctor made his way to Heero—only to be quickly rebuffed. The other guests watched the exchange fascinatedly, and they seemed to be at once amazed, confused, and admiring of the strange young man.

Relena coughed to get their attention again, trying her best not to stare at Heero's retreating figure as he walked back to the bar, acting as if nothing had happened.

"I'm very sorry for the disturbance," she apologized, bowing her head deeply. "If everyone could please try and stay clear of this area for now while the cleaning staff attend to it, that would be most helpful."

When they all looked unsure after her comment, and she heard murmurs of people wanting to leave, she cut in, and continued:

"Please don't feel that you should leave; there's still so many wonderful things that we haven't gotten to yet—cake being the foremost of these."

Though some laughed at her comments, the majority still looked discomfited by the whole affair. However, after a few minutes of expertly weaving her way through the crowds, convincing each group one by one to stay, the party soon returned to its previous high spirit.

She sighed when she caught sight of her mother, who quickly pressed her hand with a worried look.

"Relena, darling, are you all right?"

Relena smiled. "Better now that I've gotten them all to agree to stay—at least for the cake, anyway."

Her mother kissed her on the forehead, sighing. "You should really worry more about yourself sometimes, dear," she chided her daughter, though her tone was still affectionate.

Relena patted her mother's hand, but her expression became more serious.

"I'm afraid there's someone else I need to worry about right now, mother."

With that, she pecked Mrs Darlian on the cheek, and the older woman smiled warmly at the thought of whom Relena was referring to.

Heero was still being fretted at by the doctor and his assistants when Relena finally arrived, and there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes when she told them he would be fine and that their services were not needed. She watched with some incredulity as he merely dabbed at the wound with a napkin from the bar, though she was relieved to see that the bleeding had subsided significantly since the initial incident.

When his eyes met hers, however, she stepped back, feeling somewhat ashamed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner," she apologized. "It's my fault that you got hit, after all."

He dismissed the idea outright, observing as a few maids finished drying the spot on the floor where he had been knocked down.

"No. I should have been able to block such a weak punch," he replied, seemingly annoyed.

Her eyebrow rose unconsciously.

"Then . . . why didn't you?"

He looked away, and reddened a little.

"I don't know."

It was more of a mumble than a clear reply, but the pinkness that grew in his cheeks with every passing moment indicated to her that there was more than simple embarrassment at work there.

She blushed, unused to seeing him look so uncertain. "Well, anyway, just rest here for the moment," she said suddenly, wanting to fill the silence lest it get any more uncomfortable. "I'll have Pagan bring you some ice so your lip doesn't swell too badly."

He said no words of thanks, but his look seemed to tell her everything she needed—and, to some extent, didn't even  _want_ —to know.

It was so intensely penetrating, in fact, that she excused herself in the next second, her skin burning as she briefly left the party to change out of the ruined dress before returning to her guests to give a short speech and then proceed with the cake-cutting.

And all the while, she could feel his eyes on her.

* * *

It wasn't until later, when the party began winding down and the usual exiting pleasantries were being exchanged, that she was able to fully draw her attention away from him, and it was something of a respite for her exhausted mind. She smiled tiredly despite her best efforts to look fresh, and felt sheepish as some of her guests stared at the new gown she had thrown on before exiting, their expressions revealing their overall mixed impressions from the evening.

She mused to herself at how something so routine as her annual birthday party should have gotten so out of hand; but then, remembering the presence of a certain someone, she was not so surprised.

(Nor would she be surprised, she grimaced to herself, if the story of "Vice Foreign Minister Darlian's wild 19th birthday party" were in the news and tabloids for the next couple weeks.)

Marie and Emilie hung around the longest, apologizing profusely to Relena on behalf of the long-gone Julian.

"It's just such a shame that your dress was ruined, and that that poor boy was hit for no reason!" Emilie exclaimed dramatically, looking pityingly at Relena.

Marie nodded effusively in agreement, her brow looking equally regretful.

"I don't know what came over Julian," she added mournfully.

Relena reassured them with a calm smile. "I'm sure he just had too much to drink, and will probably be regretting everything in the morning."

The two girls laughed a little despite the situation, and Relena continued, gently touching both of their hands.

"Again, girls, thank you for coming, and for your lovely gifts—I only wish things hadn't unfolded in such a strange manner."

The two looked sympathetic again, and both gave the young diplomat warm hugs as they exchanged parting words. Relena even felt a little sorry to see them go, in the end, as they had been among the only people her own age at the party.

Once the doors were closed, though, she allowed herself another glance down at her old blue dress she'd thrown on, sighing softly. Then, remembering why she'd been forced to change in the first place, her head snapped up again towards the bar—though she was surprised to find no one there (save for the waiting staff, who were cleaning up the area).

She caught Pagan giving instructions to the other household staff out of the corner of her eye, and went over to him promptly.

"Pagan, did you see where Heer—where Agent Yuy went?"

In truth, she didn't know why she bothered self-correcting; it had been more than obvious, after her outburst during the altercation between Heero and Julian, that she was already on familiar enough terms with the former pilot to call him by his first name.

Pagan motioned to the stairs. "Mrs Darlian insisted he go and clean his wound more thoroughly using the first aid kit in the upstairs bathroom, so I suppose he is still there."

Relena reddened at her mother's actions—they were deliberate, no doubt—and nodded gratefully to Pagan before lifting the skirt of her dress as she tread softly up the stairs, her heart thumping in her chest with every step.

When she reached the large bathroom on the second floor, she was a little surprised to see the door halfway open—and, even more unexpectedly, to see Heero sitting on the countertop, wincing as he applied a simple alcohol pad to his lip. She was glad to see that the ice Pagan had earlier provided had already been applied to good effect, and, though swollen, his injury was much less so than it had the potential to be.

She was also oddly comforted by the clear look of irritation etched into his features at having allowed himself to get hit in the first place, feeling that it was far more Heero-like than anything else she had witnessed so far that evening.

He paused when he caught sight of her in the doorway, placing the pad back on the counter. She smiled softly as she brushed past him to shuffle through the drawers underneath the counter, locating what she had been looking for after a few seconds.

"I'm surprised you didn't find this first," she commented gently, squeezing out a little bit of the antibiotic ointment from the tube onto her fingers. "You're always so good at finding things."

Seeing the light surprise in his eyes, she paused, her fingers hovering above the injured area; after a moment of silent staring, it seemed that he would allow her to continue.

She swallowed a little, spreading the ointment as smoothly and softly as she could so as not to hurt him further. Her cheeks burned throughout, though she did her best to keep her fingertips from shaking against his tanned skin.

"You're always getting into fights, aren't you?" she said after a moment, her lip trembling a little. "You need to take better care of yourself, Agent Yuy."

She noticed how much she had begun to sound like her own mother by the end, and she snapped her lips shut, trying to ignore the powerful draw of his Prussian blue eyes as they watched her every movement.

In fact, she had long since finished applying the ointment—and, whenever her eyes briefly met his, it was obvious that he knew that too—but she could hardly stop herself from touching him again, even if only in a medical capacity.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable with her own actions, she drew her hand away, and looked a little remorseful.

"This really is my fault, isn't it? I'm sorr—"

" **Stop apologizing, Relena."**

His hand caught hers just as his words cut through her.

_Stop apologizing, Relena._

She had missed that directness, even as it made her already weak defences toward him crumble entirely. It spoke to everything she had felt—her self-doubt, self-hatred, even her anger towards him _—_ in so succinct and precise a manner that she was too taken aback to say anything in return.

" _Relena."_

That was it . . . the sound of him saying her name.

_That's all I've wanted._

Relena bowed her head, allowing him to lower her hand with his. She flinched when she felt him press the top of her hand with his thumb, that slight pressure making her shudder uncontrollably.

_But I didn't want to feel this way again._

"Why—why did you come back, Heero?"

He brushed a stray bang from her face, but said nothing still.

_I don't want to be hurt by him again._

She finally looked up at him, unashamed of the tears brimming at the corners of her bright blue eyes. He gazed back down at her in a way that she had forgotten Heero Yuy could—with a gentle but passionate focus—and it made all her anger and doubt fall away in an instant.

She buried her head in his shoulder, shivering as he wrapped his arms around her. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, his voice low.

"Relena . . . do you remember the day I left?" His arms tightened around her small frame. "You asked me to promise to come back."

She sniffled against his suit jacket, and closed her eyes as she felt one of his hands come up to stroke her hair.

He continued after a long pause.

"At the time, I couldn't promise you that, because . . ."

Her eyes travelled up to meet his again, and his hand stopped to rest on her shoulder.

"Because I didn't know what I wanted."

Her expression softened, but her eyes were glossy from her tears.

"And now?"

He leaned down until his face was close to hers, and he untied the blue ribbon in her hair, letting loose the light locks that had been held back in a tight bun all evening. Playing with one of her long strands between his fingers, he stared at her with unmistakable desire in his eyes.

"I want **you."**


	12. 20 July, A.C. 199

"What do you think of my disguise?"

Heero stared at Relena's outfit with contained amusement as she exited a black car from the side of the road.

"It'll do," he replied after a moment, turning away from her as he led her through the main entrance to the apartment complex.

Relena followed him with a pout, her hands planted on her hips. "I put a lot of thought into this, you know!"

He glanced back at her as they entered the elevator, one eyebrow raised at the remark.

"I'm sure you did," he monotoned.

The young minister frowned at the reply, staring into the mirror at the back of the elevator at the outfit she had especially chosen to wear so as not to be recognised. Jean shorts on top of black stockings with red ballet flats on the bottom, and on top a white, floral-patterned blouse, sun-yellow neck scarf, big sunglasses, and a white sunhat under which all her light hair was collected in a messy bun.

As she examined it again, she reddened in embarrassment at how badly all the pieces went together, especially in comparison to the smartly-dressed Heero Yuy in his Preventers jacket, white shirt, and black dress trousers.

"At least nobody will recognize me," she muttered to herself, loosening the scarf a little. She sighed at her poor taste in fashion, and suddenly felt all the more thankful that her mother had been buying her clothes all those years.

Relena blushed when she caught Heero glancing at her from where he stood near the button panel, and he, too, quickly averted his gaze, pushing the button for his floor. As the doors closed and the elevator began to travel up, Relena felt her stomach quiver with anticipation.

_This is my first time at_ _**his** _ _apartment._

The thought made her want to giggle nervously, though she suppressed the urge, merely clearing her throat instead. The sound made Heero's curious gaze shift back to her, but she looked away again, too red in the face to meet his eyes.

It seemed a bit strange to her that she should feel nervous at all, and, beyond that, that it was, indeed, her  _first time_ at Heero's abode. They had known each other for four long years by then—four years fraught with conflict, death, destruction . . .

_But there's more than that, isn't there?_

Relena only had to glance at him from the corner of her eye to summon up that familiar feeling again, though she somewhat silently lamented that he didn't return it at that exact moment. He was focused, as ever, on the "mission" at hand—or, in this case, getting to his floor without the elevator breaking down midway through.

She guessed from his tense expression that he usually took the stairs.

Still, given her reminiscing about their "relationship" (if she could call it that), she did find it odd that she'd never before been in his apartment; although, after thinking on it, she supposed that she never would have had the opportunity to in the past. After all, they'd never been  _this_ close, even when he'd been on her security detail; more to the point, she couldn't imagine the "old" Heero finding any reason to "invite her up for coffee," as it were, given his tendency to be a stickler for protocol.

She smiled at the thought.

_He's changed._

The elevator peeped as it reached Heero's floor a few moments, and Relena—after jumping a little at the noise—stepped through cautiously, looking both ways for any sign of other human life-forms. When she did not detect any, she sighed a little in relief, though even this was short-lived as Heero brushed past her to open the door to his apartment. She jumped a little at the sensation of the skin of his upper arm touching hers, and as he opened the door, she eagerly skittered through it.

"I can finally take these off!" Relena exclaimed as she tugged off her hat, sunglasses, and scarf with a jumpy smile, laying them on the couch near the door. Once her vision had adjusted to the lighting, she looked around curiously, and her heart calmed somewhat from before.

Heero closed the door behind them as Relena walked around, examining the various amenities and rooms inside.

"Not bad for an ESUN apartment," she commented aloud, earning a small grunt of agreement from Heero. He watched her exploring from the door, still somewhat amused by her "disguise" and curiosity about his living conditions. After a minute, he proceeded to the kitchen and pulled two glasses from one of the cabinets.

"Water?" he asked.

Relena could feel him staring from behind her, but she did her best to ignore it, swallowing the blush rising up in her throat.

"Yes, please," she replied, and went on to poke around the bathroom and kitchen areas further, opening random cabinets and finding them mostly empty save for a few bare necessities. She could have sighed in exasperation at the sparse resources, though, in retrospect, she supposed it made sense that he should be able to live on so little.

_It's only him living here, after all._

He handed her the glass of water he'd poured once she'd circled back to the counter, and she took it with a nervous smile. She glanced at him over the rim as she lowered the glass back down to the countertop, her look somewhat guilty.

"I hope it's not too much trouble, having me here," she said quietly.

Heero shrugged. "It's not."

His tone was hardly reassuring, but, she thought, it was at least  _honest_ —and at that moment, that was enough to assuage her.

She smiled less cautiously. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, taking a seat on a barstool by the counter. "I was worried—I know it's a hassle to arrange something like this, especially given my . . .  _position."_

He looked at her questioningly, but his expression was otherwise unchanged from before.

"I told you already, Relena—it's fine," he repeated, and added more pointedly: "If it wasn't, I wouldn't have brought you here."

She reddened, not knowing whether to be comforted—or slightly disappointed—by his reply.

_He really has a_ _**way** _ _with words, doesn't he?_

Relena's stare drifted away from the table back towards the interior of the apartment; after a moment of thoughtless browsing, she suddenly noticed that one room remained shut.

"What's there?" she asked.

"The bedroom."

The answer came in the same moment as Relena had answered her own question, and she rouged, covering her right cheek with her hand.

"Of course it is," she said sheepishly, giving him another anxious smile.

_I've never been in_ _**there,** _ _either._

Her heart beat fast as she sought to change the topic, tearing her eyes away from the closed door that summoned so many unseemly thoughts to her mind.

"So . . . what are we doing for dinner?"

Heero shrugged, confused by her obvious jitteriness. "I usually get takeout."

Relena tilted her head to the side in curiosity, calming down a little. "Where from?"

"There's an Asian fusion place a couple blocks from here," he replied, gesturing out the window.

Somehow, hearing the words "Asian fusion" out of Heero's mouth made Relena grin stupidly—they were so comparably normal to almost everything else he ever said.

Her grin dropped slightly, however, at seeing his bemused look. "That sounds good," she said with a smile. "I would suggest walking there, but . . . it's kind of a pain going out in public when I constantly have to worry about being recognized."

He nodded. "I wouldn't have recommended we do that anyway," he agreed. "We can order in."

"Good thinking," Relena said with an encouraging smile, then added: "But we don't have to call now—it's still a little early."

Heero glanced at his watch. "It's already 1800 hours, Relena," he told her expectantly.

Relena reddened.

"I know, but—I just wanted us to sit and . . .  _talk_ for a while beforehand," she said quickly, biting her lip afterward. "Because, you know, after we eat, we might be too tired and full from the food to have a good conversation."

He stared at her quizzically.

"You want to . . . talk?"

Her blush deepened.

"Yes, if that's  _all right_ with you," she replied a little sarcastically, unable to help but simper at his confusion over the idea of having a  _conversation._

Heero shrugged, and she contained a sigh as she made herself comfortable on his couch, slipping her feet out of the red flats. However, when he made no move to join her, she raised a curious eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to come and sit down?"

He hesitated for a second, and she patted the seat next to her. Finally, he seemed to relax a little, though he paused in the kitchen to pick up their glasses of water before coming over. After he placed the glasses on the coffee table by the sofa, Relena grabbed hers, taking a good, long swig of water.

"Ahh," she exhaled as the glass left her lips, her cheeks red. "That feels good."

She glanced at Heero as she put the glass down, and—to her surprise—his face pinked as soon as their eyes met, and he looked away from her in much the same manner that she had from him earlier.

It made Relena's thoughts muddled to see him wear such an expression; it was rare for her to catch him blushing, even during those times when they'd been a bit more physical with each other than in that moment. She could still remember the first time she had caught him doing it, three years earlier, and the simultaneous sensations of shock, amusement, and happiness that she had felt at having been lucky enough to witness it. It was no less astonishing now, even after she'd seen that bright colour stain his cheeks a dozen times or more since then.

A coquettish smile graced her lips after the initial surprise wore off.

"You seem uncomfortable, Agent Yuy," she teased, leaning against the side of the sofa with the side of her head cupped in her propped-up palm.

Heero frowned at her knowing expression, finally looking at her again.

"I'm fine," he retorted stubbornly, arms crossed as always. He took a drink from his glass to punctuate this statement, which made Relena smirk even more. She leaned further into the couch, gathering her long legs to her side off the floor below.

He stared at her actions with a somewhat annoyed look, and she innocently blinked at him.

"You don't mind my feet being on the couch, do you?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes prettily at him.

Heero refrained from frowning too much at the obviously rhetorical question, and simply grunted his acquiescence.

Relena inched a little closer to where he sat on the opposite side, perching her chin atop curled knees. As she tilted her head to the side, watching him with a smile, a few more tendrils of her light brown hair escaped from the loose bun atop her head.

"I'm glad we could do this," she said quietly, her eyes warm. "Especially since we don't get to see each other very often, normally."

His stern look dissipated at these words, and his arms relaxed again by his side.

"Hn."

A silence settled over the pair as they sat in mutual ease with each other's company, though finally, after a few minutes spent in this way, Heero awkwardly broke the silence.

"I'll go order dinner now," he said as he lifted himself from the couch.

" **Wait!"**

He turned around to find Relena's hand latched around his right forearm, stopping him from going any further. He stared back at her, confused, and she blushed at suddenly drawing his attention to herself.

"I—I just didn't want you to leave yet," she weakly explained her impulsive grab, her grip on his arm loosening (though not entirely letting go). "Will you stay with me a little longer?"

His gaze was forceful, long, and painfully opaque; it made Relena anxious trying to figure out what he was thinking, and her face became increasingly pink as time passed.

But after a minute in this way, he relented, and sat beside her again. This time, Relena curled up only inches away from him, and she laid her head against the top of the sofa. Though still blushing, she was happy to have him back with her—an accomplishment in and of itself, given how historically prone he was to ignoring her requests.

"Heero," she began again in a softer voice, feeling more confident, "is Brussels terribly boring compared to Manila?"

He shrugged. "They're entirely different," he said. "It's impossible to compare them."

She looked at him sceptically. "Surely you must prefer one over the other?"

He seemed bored as he answered. "Manila has some appeal as an on-the-ground mission with complex directives. Headquarters is mostly office work, but it's also a leadership position in the overall management of the operation. Both have their advantages and disadvantages."

Relena frowned at him, unused to Heero Yuy beating around the bush.

"Manila seemed far more to your tastes," she prodded, though she somewhat regretted doing so just as the words left her lips.

Heero dryly replied, "I suppose it was," and looked away.

Her face fell a little at his answer.

_I didn't want him to admit it so easily._

"Do you . . . see yourself going back?" she asked hesitantly, her tone more serious.

His eyes locked with hers, and she saw clearly that he understood the subtext of her query.

He took his time to answer. "I don't know," he said honestly, "but probably not."

She breathed a small sigh of relief at those words; although uncertain, they were enough to placate her short-term fear of abandonment.

That had never gone away—even in spite of his blunt declaration of affection for her a few months before, and the strides he had made since then towards becoming more open and unguarded around her, a little inkling of doubt always remained in her mind.

Nevertheless, her curious smile returned. "If not there, then what?"

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Relena poked his arm teasingly. "I  _mean,_ what do you see yourself doing after the Manila operation ends? Or do you intend to stay on as a permanent recruiting chief for the Preventers?"

Heero shrugged for what seemed the millionth time that day.

"I don't really have any plans beyond this."

She sighed disappointedly at his response, though it wasn't far from what she'd expected. Observing his solemn appearance, she reached up and gently brushed back some of his long bangs from his face with a smile, taking him aback.

"Well, we're only  _nineteen,_ after all," she said as if realizing that fact for the first time herself. "I suppose we don't need to have our whole futures planned out yet, do we?"

Heero looked a little surprised by the comment, though he made no move to push her hand away from his hair.

"You don't?"

Relena blinked at the question, having half-expected him to simply walk away after her second rhetorical question of the evening and order food without saying another word. She looked off to the side thoughtfully—being unused to such queries from him—and reclined her head further against the couch as she spoke, drawing her hand away from him.

"Well, not  _really_  . . . I mean, I suppose the next logical step, at least politically, would be to run for Foreign Minister in a few years," she mused, "and then, from there, work my way up towards the Prime Ministership."

Heero looked slightly interested by the idea.

"You want to be Prime Minister?"

Considering this, she paused for a moment; when she began again, her face was redder than before.

"Maybe I would have, a few years ago," she admitted, "but now—now I'm not even sure if I want to run for Foreign Minister, let alone for an even  _more_ involved position."

He frowned at her uncertainty. "But what about all that you could accomplish as Prime Minister—and the influence you would have?"

She blushed harder at his disapproving look.

"I know, and I recognize that, but . . . it's not that simple anymore."

Heero's frown deepened.

"Of course it is. What else is there to complicate your decision?"

At this, Relena's gaze suddenly shot up to meet his—and in an instant, he reddened himself, and broke their locked stares.

"Relena . . ." he murmured softly, pressing his forehead.

She swallowed down her nervousness, and touched his hand softly.

"It's not  _just_ that," she said shyly, and continued more seriously: "It's all the other things I might have to give up because of it—seeing my family, having a social life, marriage, and . . . and maybe even having children."

Heero tensed at these words, though Relena was too caught up in her thoughts to notice.

"Even though I know I could make a difference at ESUN—and I desperately want to beyond what I'm able to accomplish now—the notion that I would live only for my work is just . . ."

She paused, and smiled sadly at him. "It's not the life I envisioned for myself."

Her argument was compelling, if only internally; she couldn't get much of a read on what Heero thought of it, though she suspected that her talk of marriage and babies might have scared him off of the topic for good.

She blushed, feeling stupid for ever bringing up "the future" in the first place, and silently cursed her tendency to speak superfluously.

"I suppose I never considered those drawbacks," he said after pondering over her opinion for a minute, though his tone was far less robotic than it usually would have been when saying such a rote comment.

It gave Relena some hope that he understood her meaning—even if he couldn't accept the brunt of all the feelings that accompanied it.

"I never did either, until—"

She cut herself off, blushing hard as she stared at him.

_You just_ _**had** _ _to go and beat the dead horse, didn't you?_

Relena wanted to bury her face in her arms, but instead, she watched Heero's expression closely, unable to abate her curiosity as to whether or not he had picked up on her slip of the tongue.

However, when it appeared that he merely looked confused and was not about to run away from her in a panic, she relaxed, smiling crookedly at him.

"Nevermind," she said sheepishly. "I forgot what I was going to say."

Heero remained suspicious of her dismissiveness, but elected to say nothing, even as she suddenly leaned against him on the couch, linking his arm with hers. She laid her head against his taut shoulder soon after, and then gently slid her fingers between his, squeezing his hand affectionately.

Recognizing this, he squeezed hers back, and with his free hand he stroked her left cheek, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

"We should get dinner," she murmured with a smile, closing her eyes as his thumb traced her lower lip.

"Hn," he agreed, and closed the distance between them.


	13. 3 April, A.C. 199

The screen slowly crackled to life, and the face of Sally Po gradually appeared on it.

_She already looks annoyed._

A frown seemed permanently etched into her features whenever she spoke with Heero, easing only when Wufei would speak in his stead. Luckily, Agent Chang was there, and Heero hoped that he might placate the irritated blonde lieutenant on the screen.

"Agents Green and Blue, this is Water reporting, do you read?"

He wanted to roll his eyes at their ridiculous codenames, but merely nodded. "The communication link has been established. It should stabilize within the next minute."

Wufei glared at him for his obvious disregard of the language protocol, though he couldn't blame him for wanting to get to the point. The 'Preventer speak', as it was called, grew tiresome after over a year of writing reports and regularly checking in with headquarters. Often there was nothing really new to say about the situation, save for the fact that it remained difficult.

That much was evident, anyway, from the poor quality of the technology available at Manila base—so poor, in fact, that even establishing a video link to another station on  _Earth_ had become a hassle. Sally had always blamed the fact that one of the chunks from  _Libra_ 's explosion had destroyed much of the infrastructure of the former OZ training camps and bases in the Philippines now appropriated for the Preventers, but Wufei remained irritated that so little had been done since then to improve the facilities.

Sally ignored Heero's informal reply, her eyes brightening as she regarded Wufei.

"What progress has been made in following up the leads you mentioned in our last communication, Agent Green?"

Wufei eyed Heero briefly before greeting Sally with a hard stare, as was his usual way.

"We've captured some of the rebels hiding out in the rainforests of Panay and Luzon that we'd been tracking for a few months," he said, pulling up a map on her screen to indicate their positions, "and with them we've found impressive stores of weaponry that was formerly the property of OZ."

Her brow furrowed. "Have the captured ones said anything yet?"

Heero almost scoffed, though his expression remained the same.

"They started talking the minute their weapons were taken away."

Sally blinked, surprised. "Already? I thought you had a difficult time with them before."

"That's only because the ones we've captured recently appear to be pawns," Wufei cut in, a scowl settling on his features. He pulled up a picture of one of the rebels in question onto the monitor. "This is one of them, Santiago Estrada. He told our interrogators that he was hired by the main circle of perpetrators to do drug-running; he claims that he and the others were 'forced' into smuggling the illegal arms we found in their camp from Phnom Penh."

Sally's eyebrow rose in suspicion. "And you believe that, Agent Green?"

Wufei frowned. "At first, of course not," he replied plainly. "But it's been difficult to disregard his story, as all the men he was captured with—and several other groups we've infiltrated and rounded up—have repeated the same story."

Heero looked at Sally pointedly, a frown now visible on his lips.

"We can't know anything for certain without at least  _one_  of the people responsible for this operation at the base for questioning."

The blonde lieutenant matched his frown, irritated by the obviousness of his comment.

"Of course, Agent Blue. But, as you know, that has been more challenging than we originally anticipated."

He held her stare, though his tone became scathing. "Only because of the dearth of appropriate hardware needed to track down the perpetrators in a  _humane_ manner."

She pinched the bridge of her nose lightly, and Wufei frowned deeply. Though he agreed with his fellow agent, he could hardly endorse the tone of his comment—especially when he knew what Sally's reaction would be.

" _Agent Blue_ ," she began, her expression cross, "you are well aware how difficult it has been to secure continued funding for the  _basic supplies_ of this mission in the parliament, let alone advanced military hardware, yes?"

He didn't answer, looking away from her as she continued in the same manner.

"Well, lest you forget, the public—and ESUN—remain  _extremely_ sceptical towards the Preventers and its classification as a 'public good' by Vice Foreign Minister Darlian, and so we have had to compete for every penny we get with the Ministries of Trade, Infrastructure, Public Health and Education,  _among_   _others_." Seeing his face still turned away, her voice became more heated, and she added: "You should feel lucky that we get  _any_ public money, all things considered—and you should be  _especially_ thankful to Minister Darlian, who has been our most strident public supporter  _in spite of_ her long-time commitment to pacifism."

Heero barely batted an eye at Sally's emphasis at the end, making the commander sigh. Although disappointed by his lack of reaction, she was mostly satisfied that he had been duly chastised, breathing out a little as she tried to calm herself down again. She looked at Wufei with a slightly unnatural smile, throwing him off.

"Anyway, Agent Green—expect the upgrades to the main controls room to be arriving within a few weeks, once they're signed off by the ESUN special committee. Hopefully that will fix the video link problem, at least." She glanced down at her notes from their brief conversation. "Also, I'll alert the Phnom Penh Base to be on the lookout for any news of kidnappings or disappearances in the area," she said with a furrowed brow. "If what your suspects told us is true, we have to take the necessary precautions to prevent others from being taken against their will."

Wufei's arms remained crossed, though he grunted in agreement. "Has there been any progress with recruitment for the mission in Brussels?"

She nodded, typing something on the other end. "The next intake should be commencing next week under my supervision."

Wufei's brow rose slightly in response. "Aren't you busy enough as it is?"

Sally sighed, acknowledging his point. "There was no one else to take it up—Agent Fire still being off-planet, I was the only person remaining with any specific knowledge of the mission's recruitment needs."

Wufei's look grew consternated at the codename Sally mentioned—he seemed to remember it belonging to Lucrezia Noin—but didn't bother to make a pithy comment about her gender to the Lieutenant as he would have done in the past.

He grunted his acceptance instead, and Sally seemed pleased by his restraint—seeing it as a sign that he had matured over the years—though she did not comment on it, checking the time instead.

"Unfortunately I have to cut this meeting short, as I'm needed elsewhere. However, I'll be reporting back to 'Earth' with the information you have supplied me," she said, referring to Une. "I will communicate with you again soon. For now, this is Water, over and out."

* * *

"What was the point of that display in front of the lieutenant, Agent Yuy?"

Heero continued chewing on the piece of meat jerky from his ration pack in the mess hall, though his frown was evident.

"I don't understand your meaning," he answered emotionlessly, and Wufei scowled, standing with crossed arms in front of where Heero sat. He looked down at him darkly, his muscles tensing.

"If you don't, then you're an idiot,  _Yuy_."

Heero looked up, his expression now matching his fellow Preventer's.

"I don't have any obligation to explain myself, especially to  _you,_ Agent Chang."

His dismissiveness made Wufei boil over in anger.

"You don't take this mission seriously at all, do you, Yuy? In fact," he growled, his voice lowering as he placed his hands on the table, "I don't think you  _ever_ have."

Heero's eyes stonewalled the other agent's searching glower.

"You're right. I haven't," he said simply, standing from his seat and throwing his jacket over his shoulder. "This mission has been a  _joke_ from the beginning, anyway—untrained soldiers, stone-age technology, 'humanitarian' capture methods—how can  _anyone_  take this seriously?"

Wufei's eyes tightened even as Heero began to walk away to the exit; before Heero could leave entirely, he called out:

"You can make excuses for yourself all you like, Yuy, but . . . it's that  _ **woman,**_ isn't it?"

Heero stopped in his tracks, but he didn't bother turning around. After a moment, he replied, his tone acidic.

" _Good night,_ Agent Chang."

* * *

Heero Yuy wasn't usually prone to absentminded fiddling.

He flicked the clip of the tablet pen he was holding, and the clicking sound that the metal made echoed maddeningly as it bounced off the walls.

He, however, seemed ignorant of the noise, his eyes staring at the harsh white ceiling of his bunker from where he laid in bed.

_I hate this place._

He frowned as the thought passed through his mind for what seemed the millionth time, the clicking continuing. His arm tensed as he tried to stare through the impenetrable walls of the room, his only comfort being that he at least had his own sleeping space apart from the others.

_They're useless._

The only person who performed competently was Wufei Chang, despite their uneasy relationship; everyone else, however, had only made their mission more difficult. The Preventer trainees that Sally had assigned to Manila were too green for such a dangerous and uncertain environment, and few were intelligent enough to be able to think on their feet without supervision. Oftentimes he had felt that he and Wufei were more like micro-managers than commanding officers—and he had grown embittered by that, having never expected to be giving "on the job" training to skittish recruits when he first signed up for the mission.

He knew, though, that this bitterness showed through far more in his own behaviour than in Wufei's—and that bitterness had caused a divide to form between them.

_It's not_ _**just** _ _that._

He glowered, trying to ignore that line of thinking. It had done him no good in the past to pursue it, and he certainly couldn't think of a reason to do so then.

_But I want to see her._

He had felt it more and more over the past few months, now that his irritation with the mission had become firmly entrenched in his mind. More to the point, he had  _seen_ her—at least on the infrequent news transmissions received onsite—and even the most cursory glance at her face made him remember things that he'd been attempting (unsuccessfully) to forget.

Often, those memories involved seemingly insignificant things about her: the way she tied her hair back before a meeting, a couple of black barrettes held in her teeth as she pressed her long bangs back against the side of her head; her gentle smile when she leaned down to address a curious child at a public event; the softness of her touch whenever she rested a hand on his shoulder; and, strangely, even the manner in which her eyes lit up whenever she went home and was reunited with the teddy bear he'd bought for her sixteenth birthday.

Even when she appeared onscreen at formal, dull press events, he could effortlessly recall all those things in a moment—though he hardly wanted to, and had resisted the temptation to many times.

The more he resisted, however, the sicker he felt in doing so. It felt unnatural to deny or ignore what had passed between them in the same way that he had with his own past, though he hardly knew why. He surmised that his reluctance to forget came from his own sense of guilt over the way he had left her service so suddenly, not to mention his self-loathing over his lack of self-control leading up to his single moment of physical intimacy with her.

But it had made him angry to think that he could not just forget it, and for a long time he had regarded his attachment to her as a sign of weakness. Her generosity towards the Preventers had likewise stoked his ire, as he could not understand the reason for it. After all, why would she still sink so much time and diplomatic effort into promoting this organisation—an organisation that he was now using purposely to avoid her?

Why was she, in effect, still  _protecting_ him by ensuring his secure, continued employment—even after he had treated her so unkindly?

Of course, Heero knew that she wasn't the type to withhold her support for a project because of leftover romantic bitterness with one of the members involved. Nevertheless, her dedication to the Preventers' continued existence had made him more and more ashamed of his behaviour towards her with each passing day.

_Relena._

Sometimes, when he watched those few, faintly-transmitted broadcasts of her, there was even something in the way she stared into the camera that made him feel as if she were directly speaking to him. It was a stupid thing to believe, he knew, but there were certain expressions that would cross her face for the briefest of instants—expressions that he could only ever remember seeing when he had been alone with her.

They were especially evident during those interviews or conferences where she was asked about her support for the Preventers, but he would see them pop up unexpectedly at other times as well—such as when she was asked if she was "seeing anyone" by a tabloid reporter who had shouted the question at her during a public forum on the Mars Commission.

He remembered the look on the young diplomat's face as initially being one of surprise, followed by a fleeting mixture of regret and wistfulness, before finally settling on a mature smile and a simple answer.

" _No. I'm not seeing anyone."_

Those words had rung in his head for days afterwards, much to his own chagrin. It had been obvious to him then, and still was now, why he was so bothered by her negative response; that reason, in fact, was as simple as had been her denial to the tabloid reporter.

_I want to see her_ _**look** _ _at me that way again._

The darkened, lustful stare that she had regarded him with on that day in her office was burnt into his memory more than anything else, and the knowledge that she might never look at him in the same manner after his curt departure made his stomach turn with regret.

It was a familiar feeling for him, he supposed—and yet,  _this_ regret felt so much different than the kind that he was used to.

Normally, any guilt that he'd carried with him before stemmed from the many injustices he'd committed in battle—the death of a puppy on his home colony, the murders of the Alliance leaders at New Edwards Base—but in the latter case, he could at least find ways to try and atone for his sins against the dead, and pay respects to their families.

With her, however, such acts didn't seem like enough. He had wronged her, ignored her feelings, and then left her to deal with that pain on her own—but she still  _lived,_ and he could not forget the scars that he had left her with while he could see them so clearly even on the dark, low-quality screens at the base.

_I hurt her._

His chest tightened and twisted in a manner that he could hardly recognise, causing him to suddenly sit up in the bed. His breathing became shallow, and he winced as he stared down at the white sheets, balling the fabric up into his fists.

He could hardly believe his frustration, let alone the pain that coursed all through his body at the thought of her.

_**I don't want this anymore.** _

The aching paused, and the pen fell to the wayside. He checked the time on the monitor at the other end of the room, and just as quickly threw on his jacket, leaving his room.

The halls of the bunkers were quiet as Heero made his way towards one of the smaller training rooms, sitting down again in front of one of the screens at the monitoring desk. For once, he was glad that the Preventer trainees using the room had accidentally left the power running; soon, he had typed in the commands starting up the video link again, and within minutes a groggy face appeared onscreen.

"Agent Yuy,  **why**  are you calling my  _personal line_  in the middle of the night? I told you this was  _strictly_ for  _emergencies only."_

No sooner had the half-awake Sally spoken her irritable piece did she suddenly realise just how seriously Heero Yuy was staring at her through the blurry screen. It made her feel nervous that something had happened, though, noticing no one else on his end with him, she wondered what could have driven him to make the call.

"I apologize for the interruption to your sleep, Lieutenant," he said more quietly than usual, making her ears perk up in curiosity at his suddenly repentant tone. "But I needed to inform you that I will be making a transfer request shortly."

She looked at him in surprise. "Transfer request? Where to? And why so sudden, Agent?"

He stared at her, but it seemed that his mind was elsewhere as he spoke. "I know that Commander Une has already asked you to lead recruitment for Manila, but I found a posting listed for an assistant to the head recruiter that has not been filled yet."

Heero paused, allowing Sally just enough time to absorb the information. She eyed him a little suspiciously, though that look soon grew into an almost conspiratorial one; she tried, and failed, to contain the gleefulness playing on her lips.

"So you want a transfer back to Brussels, huh?"

Her smirk seemed to grow with every second of silence that passed, and it definitely was too self-satisfied for his liking. He merely grunted his reply, not wanting to give her further cause for smugness than she had already.

She held herself back from grinning stupidly at his reaction. "So be it," she replied in an affectedly bored monotone, "I'll just call in the request for you on this end, to save you the hassle of form-filling. You should be able to catch the first plane back to Preventer HQ by the end of the week."

He was taken aback by her words.

"The end of the week?"

Sally didn't bother trying to hide the wide smile that plastered itself to her face.

"Gives you enough time to buy her a nice birthday present, doesn't it?"


	14. 16-17 January, A.C. 201

She felt an unbidden shiver run down her spine as the studio's makeup artist touched up her face a few more times with blush, the tips of the brush seeming to sting at her cheekbones.

She reached to tuck her bangs back behind her ears, only to find—for the umpteenth time that day—that she could not with her newly-shortened locks, her hair barely reaching past the middle of her neck.

The sense of loss strangely made her feel even sicker than she already was.

_It's been two hours._

Relena checked her phone again, but the result was the same:

There were no new notifications from Une.

Her eyes closed tightly, and she could feel the tiredness in them as she struggled to maintain a front of professionalism in that moment.

She remembered his face—hard, cold, but determined—and some of her confidence returned, if only briefly. She glanced up with a more natural smile, if only to soothe her own frayed nerves.

The host gave her an encouraging look before turning back to the camera, wary of his producer in his ear giving him his countdown to broadcast.

She was familiar with his show, but this was her first one-on-one with him. However, seeing his smiling, generous face, she felt a bit more at ease.

Finally the makeup girl retreated, and Relena relaxed again in her chair on the side of the main anchor's desk, awaiting her cue.

" _Welcome to the ESUN-TV Evening News with Casper Strickland."_

Music filled the studio as the titles for the broadcast played, the host smiling perfunctorily as the cameras focused on his tan face.

"Good evening, and welcome to the ESUN-TV Evening News. I'm your host, Casper Strickland, here with the latest news on Earth and the colonies. As you're all aware, tonight is a special broadcast of the Evening News, as it features our long-awaited,  _exclusive_  interview with the recently re-elected Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian. Here with us now is the Vice Foreign Minister."

He waited until the cameras had panned over to her, and she smiled at the news anchor pleasantly in spite of her nervous mood.

"First of all, Minister Darlian, congratulations on your resounding re-election victory last week."

She bowed her head a little. "That's very kind, thank you, Mr Strickland. I was so overwhelmed by the support the Foreign Minister and I received during the campaign, and I feel very blessed to serve another term in this great office. I only hope I can live up to everyone's high expectations."

He smiled kindly. "I'm sure that you will, Minister Darlian." He paused briefly, and she guessed that his producer had prompted him to ask the first question. "Now, if we could proceed to the first question: What is on the immediate agenda for your second term?"

Having prepared her answers well in advance, Relena rattled off her to-do list in a calm, diplomatic fashion, though she hardly felt as composed inside.

Whatever confidence she had summoned before the interview felt as if it were fading away with every passing minute that she did not hear from Une; resisting the urge to look at her phone required more willpower than she had anticipated.

_He **must** be alive._

She had received word in the early morning hours of a raid on the suspected headquarters of the rebels in Bangkok involving several Preventer agents, and furthermore that the ensuing melee had resulted in an unconfirmed number of serious injuries and possible fatalities.

Worse still, in all the chaos, Heero was nowhere to be found—Une and Sally had tried repeatedly to get in touch with him to no avail, and even Wufei had no leads. All that was known was that he had been gone from the nearest base in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, for the hours leading up to and including the time of the raid, and had not been spotted since.

It made her ill to think that  _he_ might have been one of the casualties of the fight, though she found it hard to believe that the indestructible Heero Yuy could be taken out in a fire fight. Nevertheless, it seemed entirely within his character to have been the one to take the lead, tracking down all the trails to the rebels' possible base of operations, and travelling the long, dangerous roads from Phnom Penh to Bangkok just so that he could confront them by himself.

And that character trait of his was, of course, what scared her most.

Casper Strickland seemed to sense her distractedness as the interview went on, and he looked at his notes briefly. When he looked back up at her, his face was changed from before—his eyes sharper, and his jaw tightened.

"Minister Darlian," he began in a more ominous tone, "this program was recently made aware of some alarming information regarding the Mars Commission by an anonymous source from inside ESUN."

Relena tried to keep from visibly swallowing at the sudden query, its vague nature prickling her senses. She merely stared at the host with some mild confusion, the look giving him the cue he needed to continue.

"According to our source, Minister, you yourself have privately suggested the deployment of currently decommissioned mobile dolls in the creation of a viable atmosphere on Mars."

As her eyes widened, he went on: "If this information is correct, Minister Darlian, I must ask: How do you reconcile the use of these dolls with your longstanding position—the one you even ran on during your re-election campaign—that they, and all other weapons of war, must be decommissioned and eventually destroyed?"

Seeing her blank, frozen expression, he prodded: "And furthermore, given that so many of those working on the Mars terraformation project are former soldiers—some of whom may still harbour resentment towards ESUN—how can we be sure that these mobile dolls will not end up in the wrong hands, as they have so many times before?"

The extended silence that followed this sudden, unexpected line of questioning was jarring.

_How did this happen?_

Relena's brow furrowed.

"I am afraid I cannot answer these allegations, Mr Strickland, as such information—whether it be true or not—is strictly classified," she answered, "and I regret the fact that someone inside the parliament would deliberately dismiss the confidential nature of these proceedings, especially with regards to such a sensitive issue as the terraformation project."

She eyed him with something akin to resentment before continuing, her back straightening as she bristled with anger.

"And I am also disappointed that you would characterise former soldiers as being somehow less trustworthy than any other citizens; after all, they have just as much—if not  _more_ cause—than anyone else to promote the cause of pacifism."

Casper Strickland looked somewhat taken aback by her defensive tone, not to mention her castigation of his line of questioning. His own back straightened in response, adding to the sudden feeling of hostility that had entered the conversation.

"I only brought it up, Minister Darlian, because it is a concern that has been on the minds of many citizens since the Mars project was undertaken," he retorted, continuing: "But such a charge is beside the point, which should be this: Are you implying that government officials do  _not_  have a responsibility to come forward and express serious misgivings they may have about a high-profile issue like Mars's terraformation? Or that, by doing so, that somehow makes them less trustworthy, less . . .  _principled?"_

For the first time in her career, she began to feel beads of sweat form on her forehead.

"Of course I expect that public officials will express  _some_ of their concerns publicly," she began, "but you must remember, Mr Strickland—these allegations you bring up would likely be referring to nothing more than mere  _deliberations_ from within a commission, and  _not_ necessarily actual policies being enacted in the present."

She could hear the exasperation in her tone—the chiding—but went on anyway.

"And, this being the case, I do not see the value in creating a public maelstrom over ideas that may or may not be in the process of being debated."

He looked at her sceptically. "So you would say that our source's motivation for 'leaking' this information to us is purely political? That there are no real, underlying ethical or moral concerns this person may have behind his or her decision to come forward?"

Relena reddened, but it felt as if she were fighting a losing PR battle by that point.

"I would not presume to know a person's motivations, Mr Strickland."

He held back a satisfied grin.

"Well, that concludes our exclusive interview with Vice Foreign Minister Relena Darlian." He turned to her, his serious expression suddenly dissolving into a television-ready smile. "Minister Darlian, thank you for joining us this evening. It's been quite an interesting conversation."

She blushed in embarrassment, just barely choking out the last words.

"Thank you, Mr Strickland. It's been a pleasure."

* * *

The morning's headlines made it look as if she had drowned a baby in a bathtub.

_The Vice Foreign Minister's Fake Pacifism And The Truth About The Bankrupt Mars Project_

_Darlian's Lies About Mars Project Revealed—And So Is Her Disdain For Whistleblowers!_

_Who Is Strickland's Secret Source And Why Is Relena Darlian So Scared Of Him?_

_Pampered Princess Peacecraft Reveals True Colours In Exclusive Interview_

From the minute Relena had left the studio until the moment she had laid down in her bed at home, she had been bombarded with concerned and castigatory messages and calls from her personal assistants and office staff, fellow members of the Mars Commission, and even the Foreign Minister and the Prime Minister of ESUN himself.

It had been, without a doubt, one of the worst blemishes on her near-sterling career so far as Vice Foreign Minister; it didn't help that the interview had occurred on the heels of her re-election, when she was  _supposed_ to have the most political capital to build upon for her initiatives in the parliament.

In that moment, however, the most she could hope for was that the matter would be quickly resolved over the following two—or three, or four, but no more than six—days, so that she could move on to the other issues that had previously been so prominent on her agenda.

Still, she felt slightly helpless—and clueless—about the situation she found herself in, having been fortunate enough to avoid any other major political controversies up until that point (excepting minor tiffs with the press and within parliament). She wasn't quite sure how she was meant to handle the mess, nor how to explain it away as a "moment of thoughtlessness" on her part.

The circumstances, anyway, were not helped by the fact that she had received a short message from Une post-interview, the four words in the commander's text having kept Relena up all night.

" _AGENT YUY STILL MIA."_

As she stared down at all the scathing reviews of her interview with Casper Strickland, she wanted to bury her head in the sand.

_It's so hard to bear alone._

She wanted him there then, more than ever, if only for his support as a friend; she was tired, more to the point, of asking him for anything beyond that.

Although for all practical purposes he had become her "lover" over the past year and a half before going back to Southeast Asia, she could hardly call him that; after all, they had never technically established much of a "relationship" before he left, much less one that involved "love" (other than her repeated declarations of it).

In fact, what they could most accurately be described as, she thought with a frown, was "friends with benefits"; and that, she knew, was part of the problem.

She had internally agonised for months over their non-relationship even before it had become more physically involved, and after it  _had_ become more intimate in that way, she had only felt more confused than ever as to what he was to her, and she to him. Heero had not helped to clear up this confusion in the slightest, as he had seemed to on the one hand enjoy their physical relationship but, on the other, had visibly shied away at any talk of their future "together."

Moreover, when Relena  _had_ finally gathered up the courage to tell him that she loved him—and on all the occasions she'd mustered the will to do so after that first confession—his reactions to the phrase, ranging from confusion to contentment to regret, had changed so often that she'd stopped trying to interpret their meanings at all.

Perhaps unfairly, her confusion and frustration with him had regressed, over time, back to the same doubt that she'd felt towards him the first time he'd left her; however, after he had stated his intention to her to return to the dangerous Manila mission the previous August—and considering that she had only heard from him  _once_  since he'd gone back in September—that creeping sense of distrust now seemed validated.

_He's always running away from me._

The corner of her tablet tabletop began to flash red, indicating an incoming message.

She wanted desperately to ignore it, but—knowing she would have to start apologising to people at some point or another that day—she pressed the answer button, figuring it would be better to get it over with sooner rather than later.

"Good morning, Minister Darlian."

"Good morning, Matilda," she greeted her secretary semi-cheerfully, though the smile she had plastered onto her lips was hardly convincing (especially given the huge bags under her eyes). "I hope you haven't been going crazy because of all the calls." She continued apologetically, "I feel terrible to have created such a mess."

Matilda retained an upbeat tone, a pleasant smile cheering up Relena a little bit over the video stream.

"It's not a problem, Minister Darlian—that's what I'm here for, after all." She glanced down at her tablet before greeting Relena's stare again. "However, as you might have expected, the office has been inundated with requests for a formal statement from you, the Foreign Minister,  _and_ the Mars Commission about the allegations made on the Casper Strickland program last night."

Relena pressed the bridge of her nose lightly and closed her eyes briefly.

"Ah, yes, of course. Has the Foreign Minister made any public comments yet? Has his office sent you anything to include in a release?"

Matilda shook her head, and Relena sighed with some relief. "Mr Brandt, his personal assistant, has collected some quotes we could use, but nothing has been stated in the public record as of yet."

The young diplomat glanced at her own schedule for the day, nodding.

"Tell Mr Brandt I said thank you," she said, "and that I will likely have a statement ready by midday, as I'll shortly be meeting with the Commission and will be able to discuss better with them what information to publish."

Matilda's smile remained unchanged. "Very good, Minister Darlian. I'll see to it that everything is settled according to your wishes."

Relena's eyes were grateful as they exchanged their parting words. "Thank you again for your support, Matilda. I don't know what I would do without you!"

"You're welcome as always, Minister," the secretary replied, and signed off.

The young Vice Foreign Minister sat up straight again, gathering together her personal tablet and work notebook in her arms. A member of her security detail stood silently by the door to her office, and as she took her first few steps towards the door, she steeled herself for what was to come at the meeting.

_Out of the frying pan, into the fire._

Her footsteps echoed so loudly on the stone floors below as to temporarily deafen her, and she barely registered the movement of one of her bodyguards as he opened the door to the meeting room in advance of her entry.

When she stepped through the entrance, however, her momentary cognitive lapse ended, and she suddenly became aware of the ten pairs of eyes trained on her approaching figure. She restrained herself from swallowing, taking her regular place at the head of the conference table, and set up her tablet and notebook in total, unnerving silence.

In fact, the only eyes that  _weren't_ fixated on her figure, she noted, were those of the Foreign Minister—instead, it appeared that his aide, Mr Kirsch, was sitting in his place at the opposite end of the table. It was the seventh or eighth time in two months that he was there in the Foreign Minister's stead, and he looked more at ease in that seat with every passing day.

She found the substitution rather odd, given the urgency of the situation.

"Mr Kirsch," she began suddenly, taking him off-guard, "is the Foreign Minister unable to attend?"

He swallowed briefly before straightening his posture, his stare squaring too easily with hers.

"He has unfortunately been detained by private matters," he replied with a noticeable coolness, "and asked me to sit in on the meeting in his place."

Relena's chest tightened at his impertinent tone, but her expression was unreadable.

"Ah, I see," she replied quickly, and she broke their staring contest, her gaze flitting back to the rest of the table. "In that case, I think it would be best to start the session without him." She looked over the notes on her tablet, prepared to begin the meeting in the perfunctory, bureaucratic style. "I believe the first order of business to be addressed is my interview on the Casper Strickland program yesterday evening."

The Vice Minister of Defense Procurement, Rita Schelling, nearly jumped out of her seat, both her palms planted fervently on the table as soon as Relena had finished her piece.

"Minister Darlian, I am  _highly_ disturbed by what passed last night, as I'm sure you were as well," she began with narrowed eyes fixed on Relena, "and I believe it is an  _imperative_ of this Commission to immediately conduct an investigation into who was responsible for this information being leaked to the press." She sat back slightly, her back still tense. "You know many of us supported your proposal concerning the mobile dolls' facility for atmospheric creation on Mars from within the private confines of these discussions, but publicly . . ."

The Minister looked grave. "We'd all be forced to resign if the allegations were confirmed."

Before Relena could respond, Mr Yasushi Takano, the Vice Minister for Space Technology, added with a disapproving glare:

"It did not help that you spoke in such a defensive manner on the program, Minister Darlian. Such a response only provokes further suspicion."

The young diplomat looked at them with more frustration than intended, her fingers trembling a little from nervousness as they held her pen.

"I apologize for my behaviour, Minister Takano; there is no excuse for it, but I will say that I was just as caught off-guard by the leak as  _you_ were, Minister Schelling."

Rita Schelling looked at her a little more sympathetically, though her gaze was still hard on the younger woman.

Relena tried to brush it off, continuing: "And as she noted, it is  _imperative_ upon this Commission that we prevent any such information from leaving these walls again." Her gaze grew more serious. "As supportive as I am of the public's voice in our deliberations on the terraformation project, my position on the matter of the mobile dolls is not one that I think they can easily come to terms with, given my past statements and positions." Her tone became reluctant, but she knew she had to pacify her colleagues. "Knowing this, I think it would be best to table the idea until it has become more publicly palatable."

Relena paused before looking at her fellow members apologetically.

"The last thing I would wish for is that the Mars Commission—and all of you—should become tangled in a controversy because of the contradictions within my personal politics. Our first priority should always be furthering the cause of terraformation,  _not_ cleaning up my messes."

Minister Takano, along with a few other previously sceptical-looking members, became more subdued; though not altogether placated by her speech, they at least knew, from their time with Relena, that she spoke genuinely and passionately about the things she truly believed in.

It was that very characteristic, after all, that had garnered her the respect of her senior colleagues at that table and in the parliament.

Only Daya Sibanda, the Vice Minister for Environmental Health, spoke up again, though in a calmer manner than had the others before her.

"How should we proceed, then?" she asked, tapping on her personal tablet expectantly. "The press will be expecting a statement from each of us shortly, I presume."

"I've already had thirty calls this morning for a statement," the Vice Minister for Colonial Development chimed in, his voice weary.

A few murmurs of agreement followed this, and Relena nodded along as well.

"Well, given that we have a busier morning than anticipated ahead of us—and based on our discussion—I believe it would be best to simply say that the Mars Commission has no current plans to propose the use of mobile dolls in the service of terraformation, and make no further comment beyond that." She checked the time on her tablet, continuing: "If everyone is agreed on the general content of the statement, I'll work with my staff to mock one up with more specifics that each of your offices can then tailor to suit your individual needs."

All the vice ministers nodded, mumbling their approval, and Relena sighed quietly to herself in relief.

"Very good. Now, shall we adjourn the meeting early and go about this business in our separate ways?"

They all nodded again and rose from their seats as Relena closed her notebook, resisting the unbearable urge she had had since the start of the meeting to check her tablet for further updates from Une or Sally.

Instead, she watched the others as they filed out of the room, though her eyes soon trained themselves on Mr Kirsch as he tried to sneak past her to go out the door.

"Mr Kirsch?"

As the rest of the ministers shuffled out the door—leaving Relena alone with the Foreign Minister's chief aide—she stood to meet him, noting the nervous twitch in his brow at the sudden silence in the room once the two were alone.

Her expression hardened slightly.

"Thank you for staying behind," she began more gently than he expected. "I know you must be terribly busy."

He straightened his back again, looking down on her a little.

"Well, I suspect I will be  _now_ ," he replied acerbically, causing her brow to give way into a slight glare.

"Ah, and that is  _precisely_  why I wanted to speak with you," she replied after a moment, though there was little hint of the gentleness she had previously displayed.

His eyebrow rose in question.

"I don't understand your meaning, I'm afraid."

She brushed a bang back, staring at him just as intensely as before.

"You see, Mr Kirsch, the Foreign Minister has personally made me aware of the situation regarding his daughter's illness, and so I have not questioned the necessity of your presence from time to time during the meetings of this Commission."

He looked more unsettled.

"I was not aware that you were in contact with the Foreign Minister about his personal affairs."

Relena's expression was unchanged.

"He considers me a friend as well as a colleague, Mr Kirsch," she replied unemotionally, and continued: "Which is why I must remind you of just how  _vital_ it is to the work of this Commission that our private deliberations remain just that— **private**."

He swallowed.

"What are you implying, Vice Foreign Min—"

" _Nothing,_ nothing, Mr Kirsch," she cut him off easily. "I only seek to remind  _any_ member on the Commission how important the terraformation of Mars is to the Foreign Minister, and how  _disappointed_ he would be to discover that someone so close to the project could have purposely set out to  _jeopardise its future."_

By the time she had finished her slow, almost musical piece, he was blanched near-white, and he gripped his tablet as if close to death. Still, however, his eyes remained determined to resist her.

"I will not be  _cajoled_  into some sort of confession for a crime I did not commit, Miss Darlian."

She smiled frostily.

"A confession?" she asked innocently. "I'm not sure what you mean, Mr Kirsch."

He scowled at her through his panicked look.

"Don't even  _try_ to threaten me,  **Peacecraft** ," he nearly spat, attempting an intimidating tone of voice. "Take another misstep and we'll see if your picture isn't  _permanently_ plastered across all the papers from now until the day you leave this worl—"

Relena watched interestedly as he cut himself short, a pall casting itself over his features; it seemed that Mr Kirsch, for all his bravado, had forgotten to mind his words.

She walked towards the door with a look of fatal certainty, chilling Mr Kirsch to the bone as he stared at her.

"Thank you again for staying behind. I'll see you again soon, I'm sure."

He didn't bother responding as he very nearly bolted out the door, and she watched his speedy exit with some amusement.

_I suppose he'll be a **bit** more careful now._

A moment later, a red blip on the corner of her tablet grabbed her attention, directing it to an incoming text message.

She quickly opened it, and her eyes widened as she scanned its contents.

**FROM: UNE, CDR. LADY**

**0903-BRUSSELS-17-01-201**

**AGENT YUY LOCATED**


	15. 24 December, A.C. 199

Relena smiled contentedly as she watched her staff sing carols around the keyboard that Matilda had brought up for the informal Christmas Eve party at the Vice Foreign Minister's office in Brussels, giggling absentmindedly at their alcohol-influenced antics through the glass surrounding her personal cubicle.

She was, admittedly, still getting used to the new technology that ESUN had installed in all its parliamentary offices; now all cabinet ministers and vice ministers had the ability to make the glass walls surrounding their cubicles transparent or opaque and soundproof with the flick of a switch, thereby enabling them to both be more fully integrated into their workspace alongside their colleagues and allowing them privacy when needed.

On that particularly festive evening, she had purposely turned on the transparency feature of the walls so that she could still feel as if she were part of the group's activities (even while finishing up some last-minute committee work). She preferred it to the isolation of the other option, though she supposed that—in comparison to her old office space, which had afforded her little contact with her staff—the new setup was far more conducive to building relationships with her colleagues than the old one.

"Hot chocolate?"

She glanced to the side, her eyes meeting her faithful secretary's appreciatively as the girl quietly came in through the door.

"Thank you, Matilda," she said, gently taking hold of the mug from her hands. Her eyes travelled back to the others around the keyboard. "Is everyone enjoying themselves?"

Matilda giggled a little at the scene her co-workers were creating, her own cheeks lightly red from wine.

"I'm sure they are," she replied knowingly. Turning to Relena, she said in a quieter way: "We appreciate the fact that you decided to spend Christmas Eve with us; everyone knows that you usually attend the ESUN Ball, so we feel quite special to be able to have you all to ourselves." She looked contrite for a moment. "It must have been difficult to get out of the Ball."

Relena waved away the sentiment, though a broad smile played on her pink lips.

"Oh, it really wasn't so difficult," she reassured her. "I've been meaning to do something smaller and more intimate like this for a while now, anyway." Looking at Matilda fondly, she added: "Besides, for all the time I spend in this office, I feel as though I never get to know anyone as well as I would like to."

Her secretary gestured to the keyboard. "You should join them, then."

The young diplomat shook her head tiredly. "I'm afraid my singing voice is better confined to the shower at home," she joked. "Besides," she continued, glancing down at her desk again, "there's still so much to do."

Matilda frowned, raising her eyebrow sceptically at her boss.

"Really, Minister Darlian, you'll never get to know  _anyone_  this way! You really should get out of this stuffy little cubicle."

Relena pouted. "It's not  _so_ bad," she protested weakly at the characterisation of her workspace; however, seeing Matilda's frown widen, she relented. "All right, all right. Just give me a few more minutes, and then I promise I'll join you. Agreed?"

Matilda's frown dissolved slowly, betraying her suspicion; but, when Relena looked upon her with fake desperation, she finally smiled again, leaving the room with a look of warning in jest.

Relena felt slightly more at ease at being left alone again, and she sipped her hot chocolate slowly, allowing the warm liquid to course through her.

Soon enough, however, as she sat at her desk looking over the figures for next year's budget, her mind began to drift elsewhere.

_He said he was too busy to come._

She felt her legs begin to fidget, one crossing over the other and back again.

_The Preventers are on high alert during this time of year, after all._

She grabbed a toothpick from a small box that she kept in the top drawer of her desk, chewing on it nervously.

_It's been almost a month._

The toothpick broke in half from her teeth-grinding, and she threw it out, somewhat annoyed by how little her old habit had helped to cool her nerves.

In fact, chewing on that little wooden stick was normally effective in dealing with any number of complex policy and diplomatic problems—civil society protests over environmental pollution from former OZ bases, technology transfers between Earth and the colonies, resistance to weapon buyback programs—but when it came to  _him,_ that toothpick was practically worthless.

_What if he's planning on leaving again?_

Try as she might, the idea had never left her mind since his return on her birthday—even after their physical and emotional intimacy had reached such a level as she would have never believed possible just a few months prior.

To an extent, the breakneck progression of their relationship from friends to lovers was what worried her, since she knew, based on what he had told her, that their ever-increasing closeness was what had driven him away in the first place.

He had been afraid of what such intimacy would mean for him: after all, if he grew too attached to her, then how would that attachment change his feelings about his work, his future . . . or even his  _purpose?_

Of course, Relena knew she was merely extrapolating based off the few and far-between exchanges they'd had on the topic of their new "relationship," but she couldn't help her worry from growing with every day that passed without a word or sign from him.

_I need him._

Looking back on her year and a half without him, she wondered with some amazement at how she'd managed it; now, if she didn't hear from him at least once every two to three days, she became anxious, immediately expecting the worst. In fact, it made her feel somewhat ashamed that she would feel so enthralled by the mere sight of any message from "YUY, HEERO" in her inbox; she questioned, sometimes, if she was becoming the kind of archetypal, princess-in-waiting that she had always hated from fairy tales.

(She mused, with some resentful amusement, that she at least fulfilled the "damsel in distress" criteria, given the number of times he had come to her rescue since they'd met.)

And yet—in spite of all her self-doubt and worries—her own feelings for him had only grown with time.

_I_ _**want** _ _him._

It was painful to even think upon her desire now that she had experienced the full spectrum of physical intimacy with him, as mere hints or whispers of the memories of their nights together could cloud her mind so fully as to make her completely forget left from right.

Instead, she swallowed down such thoughts, closing her open tablet programs and rising from her seat. She was determined to join the others for the rest of the evening—if not to get away from work, then at least to spare herself the relentless, vicious cycle of her lustful thoughts for  _him._

"Oh, Minister Darlian! You're finally joining us!" crowed Jetta, one of Relena's many researchers, as she finally exited the cubicle.

The others followed the girl's stare to the young diplomat, whose stern look threw them for a loop.

"I'm afraid there is no  _Minister Darlian_ here at present—only a  **Relena Darlian** , though I've been told that she prefers to be known merely as  _Relena."_

A short silence followed Relena's piece, followed by Matilda's uncharacteristic guffaw at her boss's attempt at a joke. She placed a comforting arm around her Relena's shoulders, bringing her into the fold with a grin.

"Well, folks, you heard her—now can someone get Relena here a drink?"

* * *

"Wow, Miss Relena—you sure can hold your liquor!"

Relena held back a sigh at the "Miss" that Jetta refused to let go of when addressing her, merely giving the girl a somewhat knowing look as she finished her second glass of mulled wine.

"It's not exactly what you would call a  _talent,"_ she quipped gently, drawing laughter from her support team.

Jetta patted her on the shoulder with a wink. "Maybe not, but it's still quite impressive." She grinned at the others, continuing: "So, how much do you have to drink to get 'drunk', exactly?"

Relena, her cheeks already pink from the alcohol, coughed in embarrassment.

"I'm not so sure that I'm not a bit already."

A few "ooo"'s and "aaah"'s resounded throughout the office at the admission; Relena was surprised that they hadn't caught on earlier, but then she supposed they were all far drunker than she—and thus even less able to distinguish normal from not. They joked amongst themselves about how they had been unable to figure out their boss's intoxication, amazed at her "poker face."

(Relena herself was slightly disappointed by how quickly and effectively the wine had dulled her senses; she blamed herself for not eating enough Christmas cakes in advance.)

Shortly afterwards, Meryn, Jetta's best friend and fellow researcher, stared at Relena with large, glassy brown eyes, immediately alerting the young diplomat as to the possibly strange nature of the question to follow.

"So, Miss Relena, what's going on between you and—oh, what's his name—that old bodyguard of yours?"

The colour drained from Relena's face all at once.

"Wh—what do you mean, Meryn?" she asked embarrassedly, though—as she looked round at the other faces in the circle—it appeared that her question had been on  _all_ their minds.

Meryn giggled knowingly. "We've all noticed, Miss Relena—the way you two used to make big googly eyes at each other in the office, how protective of you he was, those 'trips' you went on togeth—"

"—trips that he was  _required_  to accompany me on," Relena corrected her, though Meryn only continued on as if she had never been interrupted.

". . . driving you home from work all the time, even when there were other drivers around to do it," she went on, counting all the signs on her fingertips as she went along. "Not to  _mention_ how he was always turning off the security cameras every time he stepped into your offic—"

"Oh, leave the poor girl alone!" Matilda suddenly exclaimed, irritated by her colleague's endless line of questions. "Let her enjoy herself for once! She deals with enough in this office without  _also_ being interrogated by her own sta—"

" **Is the Vice Foreign Minister here?"**

No sooner had Matilda begun her lecture did her lips shut suddenly in shock, staring—along with all the others—at the door to the office.

A moment later, she managed to recompose herself, standing and patting down her skirt.

"M—Mr Yuy. Please excuse me—I was not aware that you were coming."

She paused before gesturing over to Relena in the middle of the office's common area, sitting in-between Jetta and Meryn on the couch.

"As you can see, Minister Darlian is, indeed . . . here."

Heero's eyes flitted over to where she sat, and Relena swallowed as his eyes assessed her inebriated state. She blushed self-consciously when his gaze tightened.

"Would you like to join us, Mr Yuy? We were just going to do another round of carols—weren't we, Miss Relena?"

Relena reddened at Meryn's sudden interjection, a smug look unmistakably plastered to the girl's features. It took everything in the young minister's power not to glare back at her, and she merely nodded, though her face still burned uncomfortably.

Heero's eyes remained fixed on Relena as he replied, ignoring Meryn's invitation.

"I need a word with you in private _,_ Vice Foreign Minister."

Meryn pouted at his dismissiveness, though, upon noticing Relena's shell-shocked expression, her lips curled into a Cheshire grin.

"O—Of course, Agent Yuy," Relena quickly acquiesced, her face reddening once more as she rose slowly from the couch. Turning to the others briefly, she apologised: "Sorry for the interruption—I'll be back soon."

She received a variety of looks in return—some knowing, some congratulatory, some sympathetic—and all she could do was smile a little in response, torn between amusement and embarrassment.

She followed Heero back to her cubicle, doing her best not to stumble in her now terribly uncomfortable high heels. As the door closed behind them, she slipped out of the shoes, and her eyes travelled back up to his.

Although she knew that she shouldn't have been surprised by his sudden reappearances anymore—given the frequency of them over the past few years—she couldn't help but stare at him with wide eyes, wondering what had brought him back to her that evening (not to mention what had caused him to request a private audience with her, away from the others).

Nothing in his demeanour, however, indicated that there was anything serious to discuss; nonetheless, she didn't mind seeing him, and she even felt a little relieved when he turned off the transparency of her walls again, glad to be free of prying eyes.

Of course, that didn't mean that she wasn't annoyed at least a  _little_ with his unannounced arrival; couldn't he have at least sent her a message in advance?

"I thought you were on duty tonight?" she asked, voicing her thoughts aloud.

Heero crossed his arms, looking slightly irked as he replied.

"Lieutenant Po told me to take the night off, but I'm still on call."

A look of realisation passed over Relena's features, and she smiled furtively.

_Thank you, Sally._

"I see," she said simply, hiding her pleasure.

He stared at her for a moment, a frown etching itself onto his lips.

"You're intoxicated," he stated, unimpressed.

She looked up at him again, brought back to reality from her musings. She frowned at his disapproving tone.

"And? What of it?" she countered with some impetuousness. "It's Christmas Eve—I'm allowed  _one_  glass of wine."

"Or two," he chimed in, making her redden sheepishly.

"How did you know?" she mumbled, touching her cheeks. Seeing his raised brow, however, she sighed, tucking her long bangs behind her ears.

"Ah, right," she answered her own question. "You've seen me at every stage of inebriation, haven't you?"

Heero didn't answer, making her sigh even more deeply. "If you just came here to lecture me about my drinking habits, you may as well go back to work," she said resignedly, gesturing towards the door. "I'll likely have another glass before the night is over, anyway."

She suddenly felt his hand upon her cheek, his fingers gently stroking the skin there; in a moment, her own hand followed, covering his.

He stared at her more gently than before.

"That was not my intention."

Relena smiled a little. "I know."

His confused look made her smile widen.

"I'm glad you came, Heero. I was afraid I'd have to spend another Christmas without you."

His gaze softened at her words, and he drew closer to her. She breathed in his musky scent, awash in his essence; indeed, she had craved that moment for so long that it now threatened to overwhelm her senses a little, and she pulled back just a bit, her hazy blue eyes meeting his.

"I missed you."

A similar glaze seemed to come over his own irises, and he closed the distance between them completely, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"It was a busy month," he said softly.

It seemed evident to her, in his small reply, that he was trying to say that he missed her too—at least to the extent that Heero Yuy could admit to such a thing without feeling entirely emasculated.

She could feel it in his touch and in his longing stare, even if he never came out and said the words; there was an undeniable heat radiating from him as his hands slowly caressed her back and arms, enflaming her to a degree that she began to feel dizzy.

It didn't help that the alcohol was making everything even fuzzier than normal, and she leaned against her desk as he drew closer and closer, trying to focus exclusively on his lustful Prussian blue eyes.

"No need to apologise," she suddenly joked, catching him off-guard. "Sally's done that on your behalf many times already, anyway."

Heero frowned at her quip, the heavy atmosphere between them broken up by its lightness.

"For what?" he asked with suspicion, crossing his arms again.

Relena giggled in spite—or perhaps because of—his severe expression.

"Does it matter?" she asked with a cheeky grin, placing her hands on his tense arms. "I thought you didn't take Lieutenant Po seriously outside of work."

He shrugged, relaxing a little.

"I don't," he said easily.

She slipped her hands into the back pockets of his trousers, surprising him.

" _Then don't worry about it,"_  she drawled in a whisper into his left ear, smiling with satisfaction when he blushed at her actions.

Relena wasn't exactly sure of what she was doing herself—making the moves on Heero in the middle of her office wasn't necessarily the best idea, given the fact that all her staff were just outside (and likely desperately guessing at what was going on, as the soundproofing made it impossible to hear their conversation). Even with the seclusion and privacy that the workspace offered, it still felt a bit strange to her to engage in any kind of physical relations with him beyond the mere kisses and light petting that she had become accustomed to from him on the rare occasions he allowed himself to touch her in public—especially when she was still technically at "work."

(Of course, Heero's definition of "public" when it came to displays of affection was restricted to faraway rural areas outside of any known human settlements, but she supposed it was about as romantic as she would be able to get with him outside of either of their respective homes.)

And yet, even as this series of thoughts crawled across her slow-moving brain, her hands continued to stroke his rear through the pockets of his trousers, her neck craning up to kiss the exposed flesh of his neck and upper chest.

She smiled through her kisses as his body alternately tensed and relaxed with her ministrations, his hands, all the while, stroking her hair and neck.

_He must be so confused_ _right now._

" **Excuse me, Miss Relena? Mr Yuy? Is everything all right?"**

Relena had half a mind to call off the office party right there and then, so that she and Heero could continue without any further interruptions.

"E—Everything's fine, Matilda. We'll be out shortly."

They listened until the shuffling of Matilda's footsteps had gone out of hearing range before moving away from each other again (much to Relena's chagrin).

Heero stared at her intensely, his eyes particularly fixated on her red, red cheeks.

She coughed to break the silence. "I'm sorry for getting carried away," she apologised, "I really must be drunk, to forget where we are!"

She pushed past him to turn the transparency back on, blushing hard when she saw her staff all staring intensely at them from the common area. Relena looked back at Heero, glad that she didn't ruffle up his clothes too much; she could only hope that she hadn't left any obvious marks on his skin.

Heero seemed a little disappointed, though he hid it well, following her as she walked back towards the door.

Once they were there, however, he stopped in the doorway, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.

Relena looked at him questioningly.

"What is it, Hee—"

He kissed her suddenly and deeply, his right hand burying itself in the back of her light brown hair; she went stiff from shock before relaxing, staring at him wide-eyed once he withdrew.

"Wha—what was  _that?"_ she asked breathlessly, her lips still red.

He smirked, and pointed up.

"Mistletoe, Minister Darlian."


	16. 25 January, A.C. 201

"You shouldn't have given up so easily."

Lucrezia's eyes flickered over to the other end of the room where her husband sat, stiffly facing a projection of Relena on his computer monitor. She refrained from rolling them at his back.

Relena's gaze tightened onscreen, irritation marking her features where none had been before.

"I didn't 'give up' on anything, Milliardo," she answered curtly. "It's not as simple as you think."

Her elder brother frowned at her reply, matching their expressions.

"You let a talk show host get the better of you, and then you distanced yourself from a perfectly reasonable proposal just to win some favour with the public and the media," he countered, his frown deepening with every word he spoke. "What else is that besides 'giving in'?"

Relena's expression—once so easy to read in her teenage years, when she'd been more malleable to her brother's advice—hardened, and her back stiffened.

"I don't expect you to understand, or to agree with, every decision I make," she said, her tone cold. "But I had hoped that you would act more amiably towards me when we haven't spoken in over three months, brother."

Milliardo held her stare for a moment before looking away; nonetheless, it was difficult for Lucrezia to tell, from her standpoint, if what Relena had said had gotten to him at all.

However, when his eyes finally returned to the screen, they had hardly changed.

"Does it matter if I greet you warmly or not?" he asked. "As your brother, I feel it is my responsibility to advise you from time to time, especially when it relates to the terraformation of Mars."

Relena's lip twitched as she fought to maintain her chilly demeanour. "Well, it  _does_ matter to  _me,_ " she said, a touch of hurt entering her voice, "and although I appreciate your advice, Milliardo, I do  _not_ appreciate being castigated as if I were a child."

"Then don't be childish," he snapped back, his brow furrowing. "Stand up for what you believe in, and—"

" **Zechs, that's quite enough."**

Milliardo and Relena both started at the sound of Lucrezia's voice as it broke through the heated conversation, and a silence fell upon the room. She motioned her husband over to where she sat on the couch of their small orbiter home, gesturing to Relena as he walked over.

"Give us a moment," she said to her sister-in-law, who only nodded quietly.

Lucrezia eyed Milliardo with unbidden annoyance as he stood by her, watching as she rested her hands firmly on her hips to make known her bad mood.

"Zechs, you haven't seen your sister in  _three months,_ " she chided him in just above a whisper, punctuating the end. "Can't you be a bit more civil towards her, please?"

Milliardo met her accusing stare without any remorse in his own. "She needs someone to tell her the truth," he said plainly. "Her staff at ESUN and the Mars Committee members are all spineless in the face of poor opinion polls—she must have consultation with outsiders if this project is to succeed."

Lucrezia's expression eased, but only slightly. "Perhaps, but you cannot just dismiss her entire team as 'spineless' to her face, much less expect her to respect your advice if you force it upon her in this matter," she told him, raising her eyebrow when he continued to look unrepentant. "You  **must**  be more conciliatory, Zechs."

He frowned again, but it was not as deep—nor as indignant—as before, and Lucrezia sighed internally, claiming that as a small victory.

"I suppose," he admitted after a minute, though his voice betrayed no sense of defeat.

She kept from sighing at his tone. "Now, would you please go and apologise to your sister? We shouldn't keep her waiting."

* * *

"I'm sorry on my husband's behalf," Lucrezia apologized as she sat down in front of Relena, smiling a little wearily. "He's been in a testy mood all day, I'm afraid."

Relena couldn't help but giggle a little, glancing past Lucrezia to steal one last glance at her brother as he skulked off to another room in the ship, leaving the two to have some privacy.

"It's perfectly all right," she said, smiling. "He was civil in the end, after all."

Lucrezia snorted. "Only because he was forced to be," she said knowingly, glancing behind her at the closed door. "Your brother really can be difficult sometimes."

"You seem to handle him well," Relena replied with a wink, catching her sister-in-law off-guard.

Lucrezia reddened. "As well as I can," she said modestly.

She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts; when she looked at Relena again, her expression was more serious than before.

"Relena, are you really—are you really discarding the idea of using the mobile dolls for atmospheric creation?"

The young diplomat's easy smile faltered at the question, though she did not become cross as she had with her brother. Instead, her eyes turned somewhat sad, a touch of rue entering her blue irises.

"I don't know, Noin," she said truthfully. "I'm still very interested in it, as is almost everyone else involved, but . . . it's not as simple as saying that swords should be turned into ploughshares." She looked down.

"I used to think that if anyone could convince the public and the parliament of the merit of such an undertaking, it was me—'Queen of the World', 'Princess Peacecraft', and so on," she admitted, a derisive edge in her tone as she pronounced her frequent nick names in the press. She added more regretfully: "But it seems, recently, that that theory has been disproven."

Lucrezia frowned. "Don't say things like that," she said, "it's not like you, Relena." Seeing her downcast expression, she continued more encouragingly: "Besides, who's to say it can't be done in the future, once all of this calms down again?"

Relena seemed to perk up a little at the suggestion, smiling slightly.

"I suppose you're right, Noin," she admitted, reminding Lucrezia of her older brother. She briefly glanced down at something—likely her phone—and, with a larger smile, continued: "In any case, I've just received confirmation that I'll be appearing on the Strickland programme again in about a week's time." She looked more hopeful. "With any luck, I'll be able to clear my name."

Lucrezia matched her smile with her own.

"I'm sure you will," she assured her. Remembering something, she suddenly asked:

"Have you heard from Lieutenant Po, Relena? About Bangkok?"

Relena's cheeks rouged at the query.

"Yes, she called me a few days ago to confirm the news," she replied, though her voice was tighter. "I was relieved to hear it."

"And us as well," Lucrezia agreed, nodding. "For a minute there I expected the worst."

Relena swallowed uncomfortably. "I did too," she said quietly.

Lucrezia gazed at her sympathetically. "It must have been hard on you—this past week," she said gently. "Have you heard from Yuy?"

The young diplomat's face returned to its normal colour, though her lips curved downward.

"No," she said, a hint of resentment evident in her tone. "I've only heard  _about_ him through Sally."

Lucrezia sighed at that, sharing a small look of exasperation with Relena.

"Sounds like him," she said with a frown. "Has he called you at  _all_  since he left?"

Relena looked away this time, and her lips pressed together tightly.

"Just once," she said briefly. "But only to update me on the mission."

Lucrezia rolled her eyes. "Not very romantic, is he?" She grinned a little after a moment. "Reminds me of your brother."

(It had never surprised Lucrezia, in fact, that Milliardo had always been at odds with Heero Yuy, given their similarly stoic temperaments and general absence of a sense of humour.)

Rather than be cheered by the quip as Lucrezia had hoped, however, Relena's expression only continued to grow more woeful, and her white skin paler yet.

Lucrezia's smile dropped at the look. "Relena? Is something wrong?"

She stared at the older woman with what looked like the beginnings of tears at the corners of her eyes; but then, in the next moment, she had blinked them back.

"I just . . .  _miss_ him."

Lucrezia was surprised by how bluntly Relena spoke, but not by the words themselves.

"Of course you do," she said after a moment. "You love him, after all."

Relena paused, and her eyes glazed over.

"I do love him," she said, "but I wish I didn't."


	17. 23 August, A.C. 200

He wasn't sure how he was going to break the news to her as he stared at her silent, sleeping form on the bed.

She had rolled onto her side after being somewhat restless all through the night, and in the process had pushed the covers almost completely off of her naked body. He watched as her brow twitched, no doubt some dream—or nightmare—causing the involuntary movement. Seeing her shiver from the cold, he gently pulled the blankets back on top of her, and walked back to the kitchen.

He himself had managed barely an hour's sleep, feeling too unsettled by the task that lay before him to rest comfortably. He'd been in the kitchen most of the night, in fact, sitting and staring out into the darkness of his apartment with a gloomy expression.

_She won't forgive you this time._

He was sure that it was impossible to hope for her acceptance, especially considering everything he'd put her through already. She had been so patient for so long, but he doubted she could—or  _would_ —wait for him forever.

_She deserves better._

To a large extent, it was his self-loathing that reassured him of his decision as being the right one to take, and he constantly reminded himself of how unworthy he was—of how  _wrong_ it was for him to keep her bound to his worthless life.

_You should never have let yourself believe that this was real._

Duo was right, he thought in retrospect; and yet, at first, when the former Deathscythe pilot had visited him suddenly a few months before and accused him of not taking his relationship with Relena seriously, Heero had been infuriated by the suggestion.

Yes, he and she were not a "couple" in the traditional sense of the word—their relationship being kept largely under wraps in order to avoid any public scandal (it was troublesome enough that he had allowed her office staff to know about them)—but he had never taken his time with her lightly.

He had always been conscious of the fact that she—Relena Darlian Peacecraft, Queen of the World—loved  _him,_ and him alone.

And yet that was the problem, since he could not give her what she truly desired.

_She wants_ _**me** _ _._

After Duo's lecture, he began to notice what the other pilot had merely hinted at—Relena's unhappiness.

Of course, being such a skilled diplomat, she hid it well; nevertheless, he picked up on it with increasing regularity, most often after they had spent the night together. And the more he noticed it, the more he realised how little he really understood her true feelings for him.

_No—she wants_ _**all** _ _of me._

Now, looking at her sleeping form, he wondered how he had ever missed it—there was something very earnest about Relena in everything she did, including in love. She sent him messages whenever something excited or frustrating ever happened at work, called him when she was able to, and went to any lengths necessary to clear her schedule to see him—even if it meant cancelling important meetings to do so.

She never passed up an opportunity to meet, even if all they did together—considering the limited number of places they could go without being followed by photographers or otherwise recognised—was stay at his house or hers, have dinner, watch a film, talk, and have sex.

Not that she didn't enjoy their time together—he could confidently say that, for the most part, they  _both_  did. But it had become obvious to him, over the past few months, that this routine of theirs had become just that to her—a routine, and one that she seemed to relish less and less as time went on.

She was careful in masking her disappointment with the stagnant status of their relationship, though it had slipped on occasion: once, when she mentioned her desire to have children; and another time when she said she couldn't imagine her future without him in it.

Although she had been quick to dismiss those sentiments just as soon as they had left her lips, he had remembered them well.

_You care too much, Relena._

He had thought on the day of her nineteenth birthday party that he would never again feel such doubts as he did the first time he left. Seeing her face again on that night, full of shock, sadness, and anger, had crushed him, and told him everything he had only suspected about the state he had left her in when they'd parted over a year before.

And yet, on that same evening, when they were alone, she had opened her heart to him again—in spite of everything he had done to her, and every cruel thing he had ever said to her. She had accepted his embrace, and more: her desperate kiss was evidence enough of her feelings, and he had taken hold of her, thinking that if he didn't, he would lose her forever.

_You were selfish then, and you still are._

He had thought it would be enough for her if he were there within reach to meet with on occasion—just so she had someone to talk to, and with whom she might share her thoughts, hopes and fears without having judgment passed on her every word.

Of course, he suspected something more might develop in the natural course of their relationship—greater attachment, deeper knowledge of one another—and he had even hoped for something along those lines, remembering the deep loneliness and despair that he had just touched the surface of during his time in Manila.

But he had never expected their relationship to progress as quickly as it had, and he blamed himself for that. He remembered so clearly that rainy day over a year ago at the Darlian estate when she tipsily removed her clothing piece by piece, unembarrassed to bare everything to him.

He had tried to resist her and keep a safe distance between them, knowing that he couldn't give her what she wanted even then—but the desperate way she had clung to him and the desire in her eyes completely disarmed him, and he gave in to what they had both wanted for so long.

Since that time, the physical part of their relationship, while never replacing the emotional core, became just as necessary. And every time he heard a sigh escape her lips, flinched at the scrape of her teeth as she left a kiss along his neck, or felt her long, pale legs wrap around his waist, he could feel himself being dragged further and further into the depths of feelings that he didn't understand—and was afraid to let surface.

_You have to let her go._

But how could he tell her that? She would never understand, and she would hate him for betraying her feelings. Knowing how dissatisfied she already was made it even more difficult, and he wondered if this would break her spirit completely.

_She's stronger than you._

He glanced back at her, more conflicted by a decision than he had ever been before in his life. His logical brain told him that he was in too deep already—and that if he left now, she would be mad with grief.

And yet, the fear that had slowly laced itself around his heart seemed to have made his choice for him.

_You have to go._

He came back to the bedroom, touching her shoulder softly.

"Relena."

She moaned a little discontentedly, refusing to open her eyes. He nudged her again.

"Relena,  _wake up."_

She finally glared blearily ahead before looking up, her expression easing when she realised who had woken her up.

"What time is it?" she asked, yawning.

He didn't look at the clock. "0815."

She groaned, shoving a pillow over her face as she rolled over onto her other side.

"Oh, Heero! Can't I sleep in on the weekends, at least?"

"It's Sunday," he reminded her, "and you'll be getting up much earlier tomorrow."

She sighed dramatically, placing the pillow back against the headboard.

"I know, but  _still,"_ she whined, tiredly propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. "Can't you let me rest?"

He stood again, walking back to the kitchen. "I'll make breakfast," he replied, making her sigh again in defeat.

After a minute of deciding whether or not to go back to sleep out of spite, Relena slipped on a bathrobe, trudging into the kitchen where Heero was making scrambled eggs.

She watched him tiredly, her head resting on her arms atop the counter.

"Must be a special occasion for Heero Yuy to cook," she joked through another yawn, working out a knot in her tousled hair. "I was sure you had given away all your pots and pans, since you never use them."

His eyes tightened as he stared down into the frying pan, trying to ignore the clenched feeling in his chest at her inopportune quip. He continued without replying, and he could practically see her pout behind him without turning around.

By the time he was finished, she looked more awake than before, having taken out her tablet to check her work emails. Seeing him plate up her meal, however, she put it away again, a surprised smile working its way onto her lips.

"This looks good, Heero," she said somewhat excitedly, and upon taking her first bite of the toast with eggs, her eyes livened up, her smile growing. Even he couldn't help but grin a little at her look of appreciation, though that soon faded.

_You may never see that again._

She looked up confusedly after a minute of him watching her eat, gesturing to her food. "Aren't you going to have anything?"

He shrugged, looking away. "I'm not hungry."

She looked at him suspiciously, taking a small bite of her toast.

"You were up all night again, weren't you?"

He was surprised by the observation. "How did you . . . ?"

She rolled her eyes, poking him gently in the cheek. "I know you better than you think, Yuy." She frowned, pointing at his stomach. "You never eat breakfast when you don't get a full night's sleep."

Truth be told, Heero thought, he had never even realised that about himself; the fact that  _she_  had noticed made what he needed to say next that much more impossible to put into words.

"You're right—I didn't sleep," he admitted to her surprise, her eyes widening. Staring at her more seriously, he continued: "I've been meaning to talk to you about something for a while now."

She swallowed the orange juice she was drinking nervously, and placed the glass back on the table with some hesitation.

"What is it, Heero?"

He looked away.

"Commander Une asked me to return to Manila."

She froze.

"When was this?"

His eyes met hers.

"About a month ago."

She gripped the glass of juice a little more tightly.

" **Why didn't you tell me sooner?"**

_She's angry._

"I needed time to think about it on my own before I told you."

She was not appeased by his answer.

"And? What have you been thinking?"

He couldn't look at her when he said it.

"I think I should go back."

She let go of the glass, and laid her palms flat against the countertop.

" **Why?"**

He was somewhat taken aback by the simplicity of the question; and yet, the more he considered it, the harder he found it to answer.

_I don't want to tell her the truth._

"I understand you've been getting summary reports from Une on the Southeast Asian crime ring, but the situation there is far worse than she portrays it," he said evenly, trying to ignore the cold, probing stare she was shooting at him. "Agent Chang has sent me a number of private messages which indicate that they might be close to finding the leaders of the network, but they need more experienced agents on hand to better follow up on the leads they've been chasing."

He paused. "Given that I spent so much time on the mission, I was a natural choice when Une was considering agents to send back to Manila."

Even though none of what he said was a lie—in fact, he had told her about as much as he could without going into classified details—he still felt incredibly guilty as he met her increasingly sorrowful expression.

After a pause, she looked at him with pained eyes.

"When—when do you leave? And when will you return?"

He kept himself from tensing at her queries.

"Two weeks," he said, his brow furrowing, "and I don't know."

Her eyes brimmed with tears almost instantaneously, and she buried her face in her hands, her voice weak.

"Oh,  _Heero,"_  she cried softly, "you should have told me sooner."

_You don't deserve her at all._

His gaze softened, and he held one of her hands in his.

"I'm sorry, Relena."

She looked back up at him, her cheeks stained by bitter tears, and she suddenly drew her hand away from his.

" **No, you're not."**

Heero's back stiffened in shock.

_No, you're not._

He watched with widened eyes as her entire demeanour grew chilly towards him in an instant, her hands folded rigidly in her lap.

It took him another moment to collect his bearings, and he kept his voice as even as he could in spite of her harsh look.

"I  _am_ sorry, Relena," he told her, his brow furrowed, "but I'm needed elsewhere."

She stared back at him in a determinedly icy manner, and the tears lingering at the corners of her eyes quickly evaporated under her intensity.

"You're needed  _here,_ " she said firmly. More quietly, she added: " **I** need you."

Heero wanted to falter at those words, knowing how honest they were; but, knowing how such a gesture would be perceived by her, he maintained his composure.

"You don't  _need_  me, Relena," he said bluntly. "You're a very capable woman, and you've managed fine on your own before."

His comment—which was not intended as an unkind one, but rather as one to reassure her—only enflamed her more than anything else that had already been said between them.

She glared at him furiously. "How would  _you_ know how I managed, Heero?  **You weren't there.** "

Her words cut through him more brutally than a bullet.

_You weren't there, Heero._

"Don't disguise what you're doing by offering me this . . .  _false encouragement,_ " she snapped. "I've no patience for it."

When he remained silent, Relena reddened in anger.

"I thought that  _you_ , at least, would show me more respect than  **this**."

His eyes flickered up to meet hers, and he caught—just briefly—a hint of regret flash across her wild blue irises.

_You do nothing but disappoint her._

"I did not intend to treat you with disrespect," he replied quietly. "I only meant that—that you are strong, Relena. The strongest person I've ever known."

Her expression relaxed at those words, but only slightly; she leaned back in her chair across the table, and finally turned her gaze away from him.

"You told me that once before, when we were aboard  _Libra,_ " she said, though with none of the nostalgic colour in her tone that he might have expected. "Do you remember?"

He merely nodded. "Yes."

She couldn't help but smile a little at the memory. "At the time, I thought it was the most marvellous thing anyone had ever said to me in my entire life," she said, and her eyes gleamed a little with her teenage fondness for him. "If you hadn't interrupted me then, I probably would have blurted out that I loved you right there in that control room."

She paused for a moment, letting the memory recede from her mind, and her smile faded away again.

"But, hearing you say it now . . . it feels hollow, somehow."

Heero's hands tightened into fists, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"I meant it then, as I do now," he said with conviction, wishing she would meet his eyes again. "You're a better person than I could ever be."

Relena finally met his brooding gaze, but she looked pained to do so. She seemed to bite back another onslaught of tears, her bottom lip turning white.

"But that's just it, Heero—I'm not," she said softly. "I'm no better than anyone else. And without  _you,_ I—"

She stopped to catch her breath, and she shaded her eyes from him with her hand. After a moment she withdrew it, and her stare was hard.

"No—nevermind," she said stiffly, her back straight against the chair. "Do as you like, Heero. I will not try to stop you anymore." She seemed unable to look at him again as she stood from the chair, walking back to the bedroom. "I'm going back to sleep for a few hours."

She didn't wait for a reply as she shut the door behind her.

Heero watched her leave, first with bemusement, and then—more swiftly—with an intense feeling of remorse.

_She's given up on you._

It was strange, he thought, that in the moment when he should have felt some relief at her accepting his decision, he felt nothing but guilt; and it was even stranger for him to understand, for the first time in his life, that he would come to deeply rue his actions more within the coming months, weeks—and perhaps even  _years—_ ahead.

_I've lost her._


	18. 1 September, A.C. 199

" **Relena Darlian, have you been listening to** _ **anything**_ **that I've been saying in the past ten minutes?"**

She stared at him languidly over the edge of her champagne flute, hardly hearing Dorothy Catalonia's exasperated remark. She affected a look of apology after a moment.

"Of course I have, Dorothy. You were saying something about the contractors you hired for that apartment complex on C102?"

Dorothy, annoyed at the spot-on recollection, frowned.

"Yes, well," she continued in a more unpleasant tone, "they've cost me far too much, considering the paltry returns I'm expecting for the first few months on this." Her eyes flickered to the side, irritated. "I knew that converting the former OZ installations into civilian housing wasn't going to be easy, but I had at least hoped that  _someone_ would be interested in moving into them—especially considering the lower rent."

Relena was hardly interested in the conversation at hand, but she forced herself to offer some kind of reassurance.

"Doesn't Quatre have any real estate connections he could put you in touch with? Or perhaps a few contacts in marketing?"

Dorothy's eyes alighted somewhat at Quatre's name, but her tone was neutral.

"I think I've exhausted all his human resources at this point," she said with a slight grin. "I'm quite a demanding woman, you know."

Relena couldn't help but smile back at the comment. "I'm well aware," she said gently. Eyeing her friend with a bit more amusement, she added coyly: "Still, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help you."

Dorothy's grin fell. "I'm going to pretend I don't understand what you're implying," she said coolly. "In fact," she continued with a more irritated look, "I'm quite sure I said the same thing to you when you brought this up . . . oh . . . when was it . . .  _a month ago?_ "

Relena simpered despite herself. "I'm not allowed to suggest . . .  _whatever_ it is that you think I'm suggesting more than once, then?"

Dorothy frowned. "That's correct," she replied succinctly.

Relena's smirk faded into a slow, sweet smile. "And if something  _did_ happen—"

"—which it won't," Dorothy finished with pursed lips, glaring at Relena.

"Well if it  _did,_ " she continued with the same smile as before, "I'm sure you would tell me, wouldn't you? As my  _good friend?_ "

Dorothy let out a small "Hmph!" at that, tossing her wild blonde hair over her shoulder crossly and taking a swig of her champagne. She eyed Relena with some icy amusement after a moment of impetuous silence.

"And what about you, Darlian?" she countered in a more hushed tone, glancing over to where Relena's eyes had previously been drawn. "Would you tell your  _good friend_ Dorothy Catalonia if something were to happen between you and the Perfect Soldier?"

Relena blushed darkly at the question, trying to keep her eyes from straying back to his figure.

"Nothing's happened," she lied, her voice quiet.

Dorothy stared hard at her friend as if to ascertain the truthfulness of the claim—but, after a minute of looking back and forth between Relena's blushing face and Heero Yuy's impassive mask from where he sat on the couch in the adjacent living room of the Darlian estate, she finally let it go, relaxing.

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "Can we get off this topic now? It bores me to tears."

Relena nodded mutely, and was even a little grateful as Dorothy went on to rattle off her other investment plans for the near future.

Nevertheless, she found her attention drifting back to its previous point of interest.

_Heero._

He glanced back at her on occasion, his laptop propped up on his legs as he worked. She supposed it was some take-home assignment from Une; she often sent him some codes to crack, or security programs to debug.

And on the few occasions that he had driven her back to her mother's estate—these instances having lessened considerably now that he was working full time with Sally and Une at Preventer HQ—he would often sign onto work straightaway, without giving her so much as a peck on the cheek.

Not that she could blame him for working right at that exact moment, though; Relena herself was  _supposed_ to be fully engaged in her conversation with Dorothy—whom she hadn't seen in well over five months—though that had become difficult after they'd been forced to move indoors when it had begun to rain outside, and she was confronted by  _his_ constant, unmoving presence.

_He's too distracting._

It was strange for the three of them to be alone in such a huge house; her mother had gone to visit an old friend for the weekend in Bruges, and Pagan to visit his grand-nieces in Antwerp. Even much of the household staff had been given a short holiday that weekend, and, given the fact that Heero was there (and that he'd designed the security system), there didn't was not much need for the usual rotating circle of sentries around the estate—just a couple for outside the house.

In fact, the knowledge that she would largely be alone with Heero had made her nervous for the weeks leading up to then—and it had been the major reason behind her decision to have an impromptu get-together with Dorothy at the estate, even when the forecast had been calling for rain for at least a week.

Of course, her fleeting moment of panic about being alone with him had faded, and with it, Relena regretted somewhat her decision, especially since the past few weeks had brought her and Heero even closer together.

She fondly remembered their picnic in the Mediterranean, and the other rare, private moments they'd had together, and suddenly she wondered why she had been so afraid of being close to him before. It seemed somewhat natural to her now that they should be alone from time to time, and that they should have genuine moments of emotional—as well as  _physical_ —intimacy.

Perhaps it was the latter that made her the most anxious; they had kissed and touched on occasion, but nothing matched the gentle, passionate embrace he had held her in on the evening of her nineteenth birthday three months ago.

She absently wondered what would have become of them that night, had they not been interrupted by her mother—and such a musing made her cheeks redden furiously.

_I want to be held like that again._

Dorothy's sigh brought her out of her reverie.

"It always rains in this awful city," she complained dramatically, gesturing towards the kitchen window. "No wonder I never come to visit."

Relena smiled gently, though she felt her eyes continually traveling back to Heero as she spoke.

"It's not so terrible, is it?" she asked innocently. "After all, we did get some sun while it lasted, and there's still plenty of food and drinks to be had."

Dorothy smirked. "Oh, yes,  _drinks,_ " she sniggered conspiratorially. "I forgot how much of an alcoholic you are,  _Vice Foreign Minister_."

Relena caught Heero's disapproving glance as Dorothy topped off both their glasses, and she restrained herself from rolling her eyes at him. He hated alcohol, and disliked even more the fact that it was a permanent feature of her social gatherings.

(She didn't have the greatest penchant for it herself, but, feeling constrained by social etiquette, she didn't feel like she had a choice most of the time.)

_Besides, sometimes I need a_ _**drink** _ _._

"I'm not an  _alcoholic,_ " she protested lightly as she broke away from his look. "I just have a certain . . .  _tolerance_ for it now."

Her cheeks pinked somewhat defiantly at the thought of his scolding stare, and Relena—as if to prove Dorothy's point—suddenly sipped on the champagne a bit more hurriedly than before.

Dorothy's eyes fluttered prettily at her friend.

"Do you want more, Miss Relena?"

Relena blinked, and looked down at her near-empty glass in surprise.

"I—I'm fine for now, thank you," she stammered.

She blushed, suddenly realizing just how quickly she had imbibed the strong drink—and how smugly Dorothy was looking at her in that moment.

Relena frowned. "Do you always  _have_  to wear that sort of expression?"

Dorothy cackled at the question. "My dear Relena," she began, her eyes sharp and quick, "it's not an ' _expression'_. That's just what I look like."

Relena rolled her eyes at the quip. "Well, you've made your point. Happy now?"

Dorothy's smirk dropped a little. "Not if you're going to react in  **that** manner," she said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Have I said or done something to upset you?"

At Relena's agitated look, Dorothy rolled her eyes. "Something beyond the bounds of what I  _normally_ say or do that offends you, your grace?"

When Relena's lips remained stubbornly pursed, refusing to acknowledge the sarcasm with which Dorothy had ended her query, the blonde began to look exasperated.

"Don't tell me you're  _still_ upset with me for not coming to your birthday party in April," she said tiredly. "You know I couldn't just drop everything to be there, even for the  _Queen of the World_ herself."

Relena reddened. "I told you already that I didn't mind that," she said in a forced way, not meeting Dorothy's eyes directly. "I know you were busy."

Dorothy's brow rose at her friend's sudden inward turn, and—unable to help herself—dug a little deeper.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled then," she began in an agreeable tone, then continued more slyly: "Though I do  _so_ wish I had been in attendance, after having read about it in the papers for the next week." She looked over Relena's shoulder at Heero, saying directly to him: "I was shocked to hear that you actually took a punch, Agent Yuy—and from such a dandy! You must have just been distracted,  _surely._ "

Heero merely glared at her from his seat, refusing to rise up to the Catalonia heiress' challenge, and Dorothy tittered triumphantly, her chin resting atop her hands. "But the Vice Foreign Minister took good care of you, didn't she? I'm  _sure_ of it," she added, mocking his silence. "She would never leave a  _friend_ to bleed out like that—would you, Relena?"

Relena watched the whole exchange utterly embarrassed—for herself or for Heero, she wasn't sure—but her amazement at Dorothy's boldness had at least temporarily tampered down her crossness at the girl, and she found herself unable to say anything to the platinum blonde's final rhetorical question.

Dorothy seemed to pick up on this change in mood, and she stared at Relena's blushing face with piqued interest.

"I've embarrassed you, haven't I?" she pointed out the obvious, smiling a little to herself. "Sorry. You know I can't help it."

The young diplomat wanted to roll her eyes at Dorothy—or at least to throw her a chiding frown of disapproval, as she normally would have—but after a moment, she simply sighed, and waved off the matter.

"No," she said quietly, "it's fine."

Dorothy looked concerned at the timid answer.

"What do you mean, 'it's fine'?" she asked, annoyed. "That's not like you to say, Relena."

Relena shrugged—something which she almost never did—and absently ran her fingers along the rim of her glass.

"Maybe not," she admitted very quietly, "but I'm not sure I even know what's wrong, if something is at all."

Dorothy stared at her friend for a while, and then turned to look pointedly at Heero Yuy in the adjacent room (though he hardly spared a glance at her). When her gaze returned to Relena, her expression darkened comically, and her blue eyes flashed knowingly.

"I think I know what it is," she remarked secretively, grinning to herself. "I think I know very well."

* * *

She stood at the window in the living room, waving one last time to Dorothy as she stepped into her private car on the driveway of the estate. It amused Relena a little to see her followed by one of the estate's two on-duty guards carrying an umbrella over her, the guard—in spite of his excellent physical shape—struggling to keep up with the blistering pace of Dorothy Catalonia's white pumps as they struck the wet concrete below.

_She's a force to be reckoned with._

Nevertheless, Relena noted with some glumness, the soft rain outside had turned into a veritable downpour, and she sighed a little more loudly than intended. She leaned against the windowsill, still feeling a bit woozy from the champagne (though, by that point, she had eaten enough to absorb most of its effects), and suddenly, she became intensely aware of one fact.

_We're alone._

She couldn't bear to look at him as the realisation crossed her mind, but a warm sensation began to form at the pit of her stomach.

_You've wanted this._

At first, she blamed the alcohol's muddying influence; then, as the minutes passed and the feeling remained, she accepted it.

_Take this chance._

"You have a meeting with the Foreign Minister at his home in an hour," Heero said suddenly from the couch, his eyes still on his screen.

She stayed in place, staring out at the rain.

"Cancel it."

Heero looked up in surprise at her.

"Cancel it?" he echoed her, confused.

When she didn't answer immediately, he looked out the window, commenting with a raised eyebrow: "The rain won't be an issue, Relena."

"It's not that."

It was a soft reply—almost a whisper—but forceful enough to give him due pause, ignoring the models he had been running on his laptop screen for a moment.

"What, then?"

She didn't face him.

"Don't question my orders, Heero.  **Cancel it."**

He frowned even more deeply at her response, though, upon hearing a single "beep" from his computer, Relena knew that he had done as she'd asked.

And as soon as the room became quiet again, she felt a fierce heat spread from her lower abdomen up to her already hot face.

She fingered her phone absently in her dress pocket. "Turn off the surveillance upstairs," she ordered him further, again taking him off-guard.

Hearing her serious tone, he complied, though she could feel him tense up even from afar.

She walked up the stairs without so much as a glance back at him. She felt his eyes follow her all the while—or at least until she had turned the corner to the second floor, at which point she scurried to her bedroom.

Relena sighed with relief upon reaching her room, closing the door gently behind her. Her skin burned to such a degree that she felt the need to suddenly dive into the pile of pillows at the head of her bed, taking some comfort in their cool softness. She gripped them as if for dear life for a minute; soon, however, her grip loosened, and her cheeks, while still red, felt less on fire than before.

_He will come._

She sat up in the bed, her eyes firm with belief. A moment later, she went to her dresser, staring intently at her reflection in the large mirror. She touched her hair softly, not wanting to ruin any part of the intricate French braiding she had done that morning.

_He_ _**has** _ _to come._

She reapplied some of the lip gloss that had come off during the day, but wiped off the light eyeshadow she had put on, having always found it bothersome to avoid getting it on her hands anyway. Thankfully, she noted, her dress was only a little rumpled, and no stains from the food or drinks marked its pale blue colour.

She slipped out of her white ballet flats, leaning back in the plush chair; moments later, the door opened, and she secretly smiled.

"Relena?"

She sat straight against the chair, and her eyes drifted back towards the door, greeting his.

"Heero."

He stared at her in consternation. "Is something wrong?"

She looked back into the mirror, taking off her pearl necklace and matching earrings.

"Not at all. I was just going to change into something more comfortable."

He merely nodded, obviously still perplexed by her actions, and turned to leave.

" **I want you to stay."**

He paused mid-step, looking back at her. She was staring at him determinedly, and she stood again.

However, when she saw his bemusement, her eyes softened a little.

"I want you to stay," she repeated more gently.

His reply was as blunt as she expected.

"Why?"

Her lips parted, and then closed again, embarrassed to give voice to the words that her brain was demanding she say aloud.

_I want you . . . I want you to . . ._

Her cheeks pinked, but her voice was stronger than ever.

"I want you to  **look**  at me."

Relena watched as her meaning dawned on him, and a darker colour began to stain his own face. Without waiting for his answer, she began, her eyes never leaving his.

First was the white cardigan around her shoulders, which fell soundlessly to the carpeted floor below.

Then, she unzipped the back of her simple blue sundress, pushing it down her body. Once it was pooled around her feet, she stepped outside of it, and pushed it gently to the side.

Following this came her thigh-high stockings, and these she peeled off slowly, one at a time, and softly tossed them in the same pile as the other clothes.

She stopped suddenly, looking away from him for a moment as she stood in only her bra and panties; then, gesturing to her undergarments, she spoke again.

"Take them off for me, Heero."

The dark colour of his face reached even his eyes, which became so clouded as to be rendered unrecognizable.

"Relena . . ."

The way his voice trailed off made her shiver, and she felt her heart pound inside of her chest as he took a few steps towards her.

When he was standing directly in front of her, one of his hands reached up to touch her cheek, and he suddenly frowned.

" **You're drunk."**

She stared at him as if he were speaking an alien language.

_What?_

Her face crimsoned horribly.

"I'm  _fine,"_ she seethed, angrily smacking away his hand from her. It was unclear to Relena what the proper emotions she was supposed to be feeling were—Anger? Embarrassment? Horror?—but she settled on the first, her gaze fiery.

"Are you really so blind?" she asked, and suddenly she took his hands in hers again, placing them at the latch to her bra between her breasts. "I'm not a child anymore, Heero—so please, don't treat me like one."

He didn't answer, looking embarrassed and confused all at once. His expression only pushed her to continue, her tone more earnest than before.

"You told me a few months ago that you  _wanted_ me—was that a lie?"

Heero appeared somewhat offended by the suggestion.

"No, it wasn't," he said so firmly as to make her heart skip a beat.

Relena pressed on. "Then why won't you accept me now?"

He looked annoyed. "Because you're not thinking clearly."

Her eyes alit with fresh fight in them.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, running her fingers softly along his knuckles. His hands still lingering over the latch to her bra, she seductively brushed her lips against his jaw line, continuing:

"Because I'm quite certain that this is the clearest I've thought in  _months."_

Her bra suddenly fell to the floor in much the same way as the cardigan, the dress, and the stockings had before it, and she closed the distance between them, pressing her breasts against the white dress shirt that covered his chest.

She felt herself become increasingly embarrassed with her exposure as she laid her head against his neck, her hands clutching the sides of his shirt. She listened as his heart quickened at her closeness, the gentleness of which he had not been expecting after her brazen display earlier. She pulled up the bottom of his shirt from under his trousers, gripping the warm skin of his back underneath.

Her breath tickled his skin, and her voice lowered.

"I want you, Heero—more than **anything.** "

He blushed hard at her confession.

"Relena, I—"

She placed a finger on his lips, her eyes warm. "I know it's hard for you to say something like that _,_ but I just . . . I just need you to—"

He cut off her ramblings with a kiss, and as it deepened, he pushed them both back towards her bed. Once there, he gently laid her on the covers, and held her arms at her sides, his eyes roaming her figure.

Relena looked away at first, embarrassed by his staring; when he drew her chin back towards him, however, forcing their eyes to meet again, a fervent feeling of passion gripped her.

She curled her arms around his neck, bringing their lips together again.

_I love you, Heero._

She unbuttoned his shirt as he undid her French braid, running his hands through her freed brown locks.

_This is all I want._

His tongue intertwined with hers as she ran her fingers along his bare back, grasping at every inch of his exposed flesh.

_This is_ _**everything.** _


	19. 19 January, A.C. 201

Wufei was glaring the whole drive back to Phnom Penh.

Heero didn't bother meeting his glower, electing to stare out of the scratched passenger window as day made way for night along the dusty dirt roads. They had driven for so long by then that he wondered at his own ability to remain awake, mentally cursing their crude method of transport with his every thought.

" **You're an idiot."**

He glanced back, somewhat surprised that his driver had finally decided to speak, but didn't care to address the insult directly.

"How far are we from the base?"

Wufei scoffed. "You know how far we are, Yuy. You've been counting the miles since we left."

Heero turned back to the window, watching the last bit of sun disappear in the distance, and checked his cracked watch-face.

_Ten minutes._

It seemed somewhat impossible that they should finally arrive at a Preventer base after so long, but when they finally did, he felt none the happier to see it.

_It looks worse than Manila._

Although he had been stationed at the Phnom Penh Base for a few weeks by then, he was still amazed at what a terrible state it was in. The local gangs had done a number on the already limited facilities of the place, and—given the tiny trickle of funding from ESUN—there were hardly the resources necessary to repair or replace any of the equipment onsite.

_But that will change soon._

" **Agent Yuy!"**

He looked up automatically, becoming rigid at the sound of her voice; when his eyes settled on her features, he suddenly realized that she must have taken an overnight flight from Brussels to be there to punish him in person.

"Lieutenant Po," he greeted back, saluting her as he entered the main hall of the base.

She seemed to resist the urge to reach out and grab him; instead, she appraised his appearance with a deathly scowl, crossing her arms stiffly, and drew close to him.

"Are you aware of how many protocols you violated? What the repercussions of your actions could have been for your fellow officers and commanders in the field?" Her brow furrowed further, and her tone grew lower and graver. "Were you  _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

He didn't answer, nor could he, given her words. He merely kept his head bowed in deference to her rank, not trying to give any excuses for his behaviour.

She seemed to watch him for an eternity before she spoke again.

"Get out of my sight, Yuy."

He looked up in slight surprise.

_What?_

When he didn't move, Sally raised an eyebrow. "Did you not hear me, Agent Yuy? You  _stink._ Now go and clean yourself up, for God's sake, and then meet me in my office."

He had hardly even noticed the crusty bloodstains splattered across his Preventer uniform until she had told him to clean up, but as she walked off, Wufei following behind her in a fit of rage at her light treatment, he suddenly felt slightly sick at his own stench.

_No wonder Wufei was in such a bad mood._

He was led to the shower room by a nameless officer who glanced at him nervously from time to time, his pace quick and his limbs fidgety. Heero frowned at the boy's jittery movements when they reached the room after a few minutes.

"What is it, Officer Watanabe?"

The boy looked at him in surprise.

"You . . . you remember my name, sir?"

Heero raised an eyebrow. "I recruited you in Brussels about nine months ago." His look was disapproving. "Is there anything else you need?"

The officer reddened in embarrassment, looking down.

"No, sir, I just . . ."

Heero crossed his arms, impatient.

"Yes?"

The younger man gulped. "I was just wondering if what the others said was true, sir. That you—that you found the rebels' base camp in Bangkok."

Heero tensed. "That's none of your concern, officer. Dismissed."

Watanabe saluted and promptly scurried off, sufficiently intimidated by Heero's brusque manner and even more brusque replies. Heero could have sighed upon finally being left alone again, eagerly taking the chance to peel off his days-old clothes and wash his skin of the wilderness.

_I can't believe word has spread so quickly already._

He could still see the faces of the men he'd pummelled within an inch of their lives flashing before his mind's eye as the hot water cascaded down his bruised and beaten body, ignoring the searing pain from the many wounds he'd received in combat. It seemed as if the night raid were some phantom memory implanted in his brain rather than a real, lived experience that he'd been through merely two days earlier, the events of that time already feeling far away from the present.

Suddenly, the pain broke through his concentration, and he winced, turning off the water for a moment. He panted from the heat of the room, soap bubbles still clinging to his soaked skin as he stared at the stained and mouldy tile wall in front of him, feeling more haggard with every breath he took.

_I should be dead._

He tiredly changed the shower's water pressure settings through the battered electronic control panel, and the gentle patter of the ensuing water was light enough not to cause him too much further discomfort as he rinsed himself off. When he finished, he stepped out of the stall, though he paused when he heard the loud echoes of footsteps coming his way from down the hall.

He stared at the officer standing outside expressionlessly. "What is it?"

The boy saluted him without turning to face him. "I've been assigned to escort you to Lieutenant Po's office, sir, when you're ready." He gestured to a bundle of clothes in his arms. "I've brought you a fresh uniform as well, sir."

Heero raised an eyebrow.

_So I get a personal escort now?_

He finished towelling off quickly enough, taking the new clothes and slipping them on carefully so as not to reopen any wounds. Indestructible as he had been trained to be, even  _he_  felt the damage beneath the clean white shirt and black trousers.

_But she won't let me see the medics until after she's done with me._

He gestured ahead. "Proceed, officer."

Heero followed close behind the boy to the office, which was thankfully little more than a minute's distance away, both doing a quick salute as they parted. He entered Sally's quarters with little trepidation, although he was mindful all the while of the scolding he was due to receive upon sitting down across from her at the large table inside.

She looked as cross as he expected her to when their eyes finally met; she had dismissed the intelligence officers in the room promptly prior to his arrival, and so he sat with her, alone, feeling the anger of a sleepless night spent aboard a small, uncomfortable Preventers' private plane irradiate from her person towards him.

"I didn't feel that there was a need to make a scene in front of the others earlier, since most of them only know rumours of what happened," she told him calmly, though it seemed to Heero that her tone was on the precipice of becoming far more severe should he make even a tiny slip-up. Sally's stare was incisive as she continued, tapping her fingers against crossed arms. "Are you in much pain, Agent Yuy?"

He didn't look away. "No, Lieutenant."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips downturned into a slight scowl.

"You  _should_ be, for all the trouble you've caused." She pointed at a glowing red dot on the map being projected on the main screen next to them. "You see that there, Agent Yuy? Do you recognize that location?"

He glanced at it, but just barely. "Phra Nakorn, Bangkok."

A strange smile passed across her lips. "Correct, Agent Yuy." Her look darkened. "Now, would you mind telling me just how you came to this place two days ago—and why you proceeded without any back-up?"

His gaze flickered for a moment as the memories returned to him, and he answered as simply as if he were recalling what he'd had for breakfast that morning.

"Agent Chang and I have been tracking rebel movements in Bangkok for some months now, each of us—along with several other agents—being responsible for certain areas of the city. One of mine was Phra Nakorn." He didn't break their stare. "I discovered a few weeks ago through our sleeper cells there that an abnormally large number of arms were being transported via Phra Nakorn to many other parts of the region, and after several long exchanges with our field officers in Thailand, I deduced that this area was likely one of—if not  _the—_ central hubs of the illegal arms traders we've been trying to capture."

Sally raised one skeptical eyebrow. "You . . .  _deduced_ this on your own, did you?"

Heero didn't flinch at the look. "With the help of the field officers. Of course I reported my suspicions to Agent Chang and the other relevant officials in Manila, however—"

"They didn't believe you?" Sally asked, some genuine curiosity entering her voice.

He shrugged. "They were skeptical," he answered. "Large shipments of arms through an area of a major city did not seem like anything out of the ordinary to them, as we had seen evidence of similar such deliveries throughout Bangkok, not to mention all throughout the region."

She leaned forward. "So what made Phra Nakorn different, then?"

"In other cities, like Phnom Penh, Jakarta or Singapore, the arms would come in, but not usually go out again," he began, gesturing to the map. "And when they  _did_ go out, they would be parcelled out so many times over as to make it difficult to trace their origin. But in that area of Bangkok," he continued, "when we tracked the arms, it became evident that the situation was the opposite of the others'—some arms came in, but huge numbers of them went out. And they did not just go out to individual sub-groups of the main crime ring—instead, they were clearly being marked and packaged in large cases, as if to be sold en masse to private markets."

Sally's brow furrowed at his story. "But if few arms came in, as you say . . . then how could so many have come out without us knowing? And on such a regular basis? And  _where_ were they going?"

Heero's gaze tightened. "Our field agents were unable to ascertain these details for a time, as we had temporarily suspended our infiltration activities into the rebel lines in and around Thailand after several recent incidents resulted in the fatalities of Preventer officers."

She frowned at the reminder, her eyes misting over with sadness.

"Yes, I know."

Giving her a moment to reflect, he added: "Besides, the base in Bangkok has been, for all practical purposes, unusable since the end of the war, and so it's been more difficult to establish a permanent presence in that city."

He continued after a moment, allowing her to absorb the information. "As the other officials on the case were not supportive of the investigation into Phra Nakorn, I took it upon myself to look into the matter further."

"And that meant  _what,_ Agent Yuy? Going 'vigilante' and investigating the area  _by_   _yourself?"_ Sally intercepted him, her look positively frightful with anger as she continued. "What were you thinking, after everything that had happened? Did you  **want** to die?"

He tensed at the question. "I had no such intention, Lieutenant," he answered tersely; seeing her silent disapproval, he went on anyway, knowing she would want the details of what he'd discovered.

"Upon arriving in Phra Nakorn, I conducted a small reconnaissance of the area, going over all the points that had been surveyed by our agents previous to the halt in operations. It was at this point in particular—" he paused to zoom in on a dot on the map, "—that I came upon a night-time transfer of small arms between several of the leaders of the rebels and what appeared to be a truck marked for groceries that was being used to transport thousands of weapons at a time."

She frowned. "How did you know they were the leaders, then?"

He pulled up a few pictures from the database onto the screen, and her eyes widened. "I recognized them from our own records, Lieutenant Po." His eyes tightened on their images. "I was close enough to the group for my earpiece to allow me to hear and translate their conversation, from which I ascertained the destination of the arms dump—which I messaged to Commander Une immediately, so that our officers might intercept the shipment," he reminded her, making Sally appear sourer than ever at being left out of the loop.

(Une had given her—and everyone else involved—the impression that she, too, had no knowledge of what was going on at the time, all while being the most privy to the situation on the ground.)

"Several trucks and former OZ military vehicles came and went in a similar manner to the first that I observed, and I was able to communicate their destinations to the Commander all the while."

Sally's stare was hard. "So when did you have time to leap out and attack them, amidst all of this?"

Heero ignored the biting tone of the question. "Once it was clear that all the major shipments had been sent out, I followed the targets back to their base of operations a few miles away. It became clear when I arrived there that our initial efforts in Thailand have had a severe effect on their standard of living compared to just a year ago."

He gestured again to the map. "Their base is nothing more than the hollowed-out remains of an office building, and the technology rudimentary at best—clearly nothing like the structures we first caught their operatives working out of."

Sally nodded in spite of her bad mood, pleased at least by the idea that these wretched arms traders were living like rats. "And then what? You went in while they were asleep?" Her look turned doubtful again. "Surely they wouldn't all rest in the same place."

"In fact, many of them did," he replied coolly. "As I said, regardless of the wealth of arms they have accumulated and sent out, the Preventers have been slowly but effectively eroding their sources of income in the region—not to mention their assets in the field. Their lines of support are falling away, and they knew this all too well." His stare tightened. "They are more vulnerable now than we ever imagined, and in their panic, they let their guard slip."

Something like a flash of regret passed across Heero's eyes, but it was over too quickly for Sally to pick up on. "It was easy enough to get past the night watch, and then incapacitate the others, while I waited for Agent Chang and his team to arrive and take them into custody."

Sally stared at him for a long while, and though he didn't budge an inch, he felt a sudden flinch of discomfort at her look. After that pause, she leaned back in her chair and looked away.

"You're an idiot, Yuy."

When he looked at her with some surprise—the comment echoing Wufei's earlier—she continued more vigorously.

"You put yourself squarely in the line of fire by going there alone." She scoffed at the notion even while knowing it had already come to pass. "I suppose you expected us all to  _congratulate_ you when you came back, the saviour of the Preventers?  _Pat you on the back_ for guaranteeing the organization's existence for the next few years?"

He frowned. "You know I desire no praise for my actions, Lieutenant Po."

She banged her fists on the table as she suddenly rose from the desk, red with anger.

" **Good! Because you** _ **certainly**_ **don't deserve any!"**

Sally barely seemed to relax as she stood, though her look changed considerably; as she stared at him, her irritation seemed to morph into a desperate kind of sadness, taking him off-guard.

She passed a hand over her face to calm herself down. "You see, Heero," she addressed him more informally, "it's not just me and the Preventers who get worried when you act so thoughtlessly."

Her eyes were sad even as his looked more and more confused by her words.

"There are people in this world who—believe it or not—care deeply for you, and who I would hear no end from should something happen to you out here."

His brow furrowed. "I don't understand your meaning, Lieutenant."

Sally laughed aloud to herself before scowling at him again. "No, of course you don't." Turning to the screen, she typed in a few commands, shutting off the map. "But you will when you see  _her."_

Heero turned bemusedly to the screen and then watched, with sudden amazement, as Sally pulled up a video of Relena.

She was being interviewed by some nameless television host he'd seen only in passing, and her expression, though at first pleasant, was—at least to him—obviously preoccupied. As the questioning went on and the interviewer grew more impertinent, pressing her on a leak from the Mars Commission, she seemed to grow more and more frustrated, finally letting loose what amounted to a small outburst.

As the video clip ended and the screen went black again, Heero found himself unable to turn away from it, his eyes fixated on the shadow of her image.

Sally stared at him knowingly, though she remained annoyed.

"Go to the medical bay immediately, Agent Yuy," she commanded, rising from her seat. He followed her example, standing opposite. "Dismissed."

He bowed for a while longer than usual before leaving as instructed, his mind racing as he walked with Officer Watanabe to the medical bay.

_It was_ _**me.** _

They reached the door to the bay and Watanabe saluted him before leaving again, Heero being greeted by the two medical staff on duty to tend to his wounds.

_**I** _ _distracted her._

They promptly undressed him—a gesture he normally would have rejected outright, always preferring to do it himself—and walked him to one of the beds.

_I haven't called her in months._

A pang of guilt struck him just as one of the medics dabbed an antiseptic agent on the various wounds dotting his torso and legs, and suddenly, the video—and Sally's parting words—weighed heavily upon his mind.

_There are people in this world who—believe it or not—care_ _**deeply** _ _for you._

Of course he knew that the crabby lieutenant had been referring to Relena, though he had hardly given the Vice Foreign Minister much thought when he'd charged head first into the rebel base.

_"You've always been that way—the mission first, and everything else second."_

He recalled that half-joking, half-serious comment by Relena in the week leading up to his departure for Manila, though the remark weighed far more heavily on his mind than it had before. Heero could finally see just how hurt she had been when she'd said it, not to mention the pain in her eyes as she'd tried to put on a brave smile for him.

_She was_ _**miserable** _ _._

Yes, she had been miserable; miserable at his decision to leave, miserable that he'd decided to go without even asking what she thought, miserable at the thought of him being gone again with no knowledge of when—or  _if—_ he might return.

_She doesn't deserve this._

It was not such a different thought to the one he'd had when he'd decided to leave her in the first place; and yet, as he sat on the hospital bed, one medic stitching up the more severe cuts while the other examined his battered body up and down, he was struck by how poorly his assumptions of what Relena deserved—or didn't deserve—had worked out for him.

_I always thought I knew her better than anyone else did._

He winced as the medic cut off the end of the thread to finish the stitching, though he knew the slight tug would have hurt him more had his mind not been preoccupied. He tried to ignore the unyielding poking at his torn muscles as he cast his eyes down towards the white tiled floor below.

_I thought she'd be better off without me._

His eyes tightened as one of the medics went to work on another wound.

_No—I thought_ _**I'd** _ _be better off without_ _**her.** _

It was the second time in three years that he had attempted to delude himself into believing that  _she_ was the one to blame for his lack of focus; that  _she_ was the one who had lulled him into a false sense of comfort and security with her gentle smile and soft caresses.

_But it's not her fault._

He knew that, intuitively. In fact, he was sure he had known that from the very beginning, and yet . . .

_I couldn't face myself._

He remembered too well the gnawing feelings of self-hatred that had festered within him prior to his departures from Brussels, and the sense he had that he simply wasn't  _good_ for Relena—that she would never be able to realize her full potential while he remained by her side.

" _You're needed_ _ **here**_ _."_

He suddenly recalled the heartbroken words she had uttered to him in August, and the memory of her voice, wracked with sobs, chilled him.

" _ **I**_ _need you."_

At the time, he had dismissed her pleas as disingenuous, and had even told her as much. He had convinced himself that they would both become stronger people without each other, and that when—or  _if—_ they ever met again, they could meet as the mutually admiring peers they once had been, free from the deep physical and emotional chains they had forged over the past few years.

_But that's not possible._

His blood raced whenever she entered his mind, thoughts of her now tied to an endless stream of memories that provoked within him an instinctive, carnal passion that would have seemed impossible just a few short years ago. In truth, he had nearly forgotten what it was like to think of Relena  _without_ his pulse quickening and his face flushing, and when he tried to recall their initial interactions and their innocent affection for one another, he often found that he his original emotions towards her had been warped by his current ones.

_She is . . . a_ _**part** _ _of me._

He was surprised to find that this idea did not disturb him as much as it would have in the past, though he supposed that, on some level, it was not exactly a revelation.

_I've tied myself to her._

Though he'd been known to act fatalistically in the past, over time Heero had grown to accept that, perhaps, he had never been destined to die in battle, nor had all those he'd killed been destined to die as they had. He had made his choices, for good or ill—and Fate had nothing to do with them.

Perhaps, he thought, there was no such thing as Fate at all . . . and the only thing that  _was_  real was her faith in him, and her love for him.

_And my love for her._

He sucked in a breath sharply as the medic finished stitching up another wound, his cheeks red—from his thoughts or from the pain, he couldn't be sure—and his hands gripped the edge of the bed tightly.

_But how can I tell her?_

He closed his eyes as the medic wrapped a bandage around his shoulder, and his heart calmed.

_Because she_ _**still** _ _believes in you._

He could tell that much, at least, in the interview: her passionate defense of former soldiers obviously included  _him_ , and the real emotion in her eyes as she berated the interviewer had been clear for anyone to see. It seemed that she had been speaking directly to him with those words, shaming his fickle, selfish actions over the years with her devoted proclamation of faith.

_She believes in you—she_ _**loves** _ _you—and you left her._

And for what?

Yes, he had found the rebel leaders, possibly months earlier than would have been possible otherwise; and yes, he had lived out his desire to go back to the field and feel the sensation of dirt and grime on his skin again, something he'd always preferred to working in the cold, austere environment of the Preventer offices in Brussels.

But it was obvious to him now that what he had kept giving up in order to have his short-lived engagements in these overseas missions was, in fact, the best thing in his life—and the only thing he'd ever really considered worth living for since his piloting days had come to an end.

_Relena._


	20. 13 March, A.C. 200

She wasn't sure why it occurred to her just then, but it did all the same.

_I haven't said it yet._

She was in the middle of an important meeting—with Quatre Raberba Winner and other key investors from the L4 colony cluster, for that matter—discussing the prospects of successful atmospheric creation on Mars, a topic which she and the Committee had wrestled with for years.

And yet, she was entirely distracted by the matter of the Preventer agent who waited just outside the doors of the meeting room.

_How could I not have said_ _**that** _ _yet?_

It was the simplest of phrases, she thought—and considering everything else they had already done together, it seemed a mere formality as this point.

She swallowed a blush at the thought.

_Would he say the same in return?_

That question had plagued her for as long as she could remember asking it, and it was no less intimidating then as she turned it over in her mind.

_Maybe. Maybe not._

She gripped her pen tightly, unaware of the curious looks she garnered from around the table as a result.

"Minister Darlian?"

She suddenly looked up, her stare somewhat frozen in surprise.

Quatre seemed to understand her distracted state of mind, and smiled gently.

"Ah, Minister Darlian, you must be tired from the long trip here." He suddenly stood from his seat, and the other investors and dignitaries followed his lead. "Why don't we resume this meeting in a few hours, when everyone has had ample time to recuperate from their journeys?"

There were some relieved sighs from around the table at his words, and Relena likewise threw the young heir to the Winner estate a grateful look. The other investors traded a few parting words with their respective diplomatic partners before walking off tiredly, the travel sickness from inter-colonial jet-setting seeming to catch up with them all at once.

"Is 1600 agreeable to everyone?" Quatre's assistant asked before they could shuffle out of the room, and the participants nodded dismissively, making the assistant frown in annoyance.

Relena, too, just barely suppressed a yawn as she approached Quatre, though her tone was sincere. "Thank you, Quatre," she said, smiling a little sheepishly. "I confess—I was having a difficult time keeping up with the discussion."

He smiled in return, patting her gently on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Relena—I know how busy you must be these days," he reassured her, continuing in a more concerned tone: "Besides, you seemed distracted—is everything all right?"

She reddened a little at the pointed question.

"Of—of course," she stammered slightly, plastering on a smile. "I was just tired from the trip, as you said."

The young diplomat could tell that he wasn't entirely convinced by her explanation; nevertheless, she knew that Quatre wasn't one to pry, and he beamed at her, covering for any misgivings that may have flashed briefly across his bright blue eyes.

"Well, then, I'll escort you back to your quarters," he offered his arm, making Relena blush.

"Oh, that really isn't necessary, Quatr—"

"I  _insist,"_ the young heir interceded, gesturing to his bodyguards so that they might open the doors. Relena bowed her head in acquiescence as the doors opened before them; when she looked up, she tensed in surprise.

_He's staring._

She tried to hide the bashful expression that overtook her features as Heero stepped out from behind the doorway, greeting her and Quatre directly. Her blonde-haired companion smiled widely at his former compatriot, though Heero did not exactly  _return_ the look, per say.

"Ah, Heero!" Quatre said happily. "It's a shame you had to wait out here during the meeting," he continued apologetically, his brows furrowing, "since you probably would have contributed some valuable advice about the Mars project."

Heero shrugged. "It's fine," he answered simply.

Quatre sighed a little in defeat at his nonchalant tone, a small smile playing on his lips. "I see." He glanced between Heero and Relena, and innocently asked: "You don't mind if I escort Relena back to her quarters, do you?"

Heero's expression didn't change in the slightest.

"Not at all."

Relena bit back a frown, her grip on Quatre's arm tightening.

_I wish it_ _**did** _ _bother you, at least a little._

Quatre glanced briefly at his arm, and then at Relena's slightly pinked cheeks; he smiled secretly as he nodded to Heero, and the two walked past him.

Relena regained her composure somewhat as the two left Heero Yuy's brooding presence, feeling somewhat lighter for it. Her companion noticed the brief sigh of relief that escaped her lips, and couldn't help but comment on it.

"Is he being a burden on you, Relena?"

The question was a bit facetious, but it bothered the Vice Foreign Minister nonetheless.

_A_ _**burden?** _

She swatted away the sentiment with a small laugh. "Oh, not at all. You know Heero—he's always so  _serious,"_ she joked in a slightly lower tone, making Quatre chuckle. "He can't help it, really. That's just his way."

Quatre looked sympathetic. "Still—he must not make for a very good companion on these long trips abroad, ne?"

Relena felt a heat rise to her cheeks even as she furiously tried to push it down.

_A "companion," huh?_

"To be honest, Quatre," she began with a weak smile, "he's doing this as a favour to me—he had a few days to spare from his work with Lieutenant Po back at Preventer HQ, you see."

He nodded in understanding. "Ah, of course." He grinned a little. "I suppose Heero's not the type to actually  _take advantage_ of his time off, is he?"

She chuckled at the comment. "No, definitely not."

They reached the elevator at the end of the hall, and a couple of Quatre's bodyguards followed them in, one selecting the floor level where Relena was staying. They exchanged a silent smile as the ride began; when it came to an end, it wasn't a long walk to her room.

As they arrived at her door, Quatre looked over his shoulder, and noted the small distance left between them and the guards for privacy. He took the opportunity to look at Relena with a more serious expression, alerting her as to the nature of his remarks to follow.

"Relena, about the atmospheric creation . . ." he paused. "There's something I've wanted to suggest to you."

Her eyes perked up in surprise. "What is it, Quatre?"

He glanced back again before drawing a little closer to her. "I don't believe it's something that I can bring up in front of the others, but . . . I want you to think on it, and to discuss it with the full Mars Committee when you return to Earth."

She looked even more intrigued now by how secretive he sounded, but she nodded silently in agreement.

His voice was low, and quiet. "Have you thought about using the mobile dolls?"

Her expression froze.

_The . . . mobile dolls?_

"Quatre, I—I'm not sure what you mea—" she began, but he cut her off.

"You do, Relena," he said suddenly, taking her off-guard with his staid expression. "The decommissioned ones from the war. It would take a bit of reprogramming," he continued, "but then—with the dolls back in play—you would actually have a viable means with which to accomplish your goals and proceed to the next step in terraformation, not to mention be able to provide millions of citizens with valuable, long-term employment."

When she continued to stare at him in that flabbergasted way, his eyes eased, and he continued more gently: "I'm only suggesting it as an idea for you to consider, Relena; I know it would be incredibly difficult to sell to the parliament, but . . . I really feel it's the best option, given the fact that the public's patience will only last so long before people start to question the project's future."

Relena's own expression became less dumbfounded as he spoke, and she looked down at the ground somewhat solemnly.

"To be honest, Quatre . . ." she said softly, "I don't have the confidence that I could convince them of bringing back the mobile dolls for such a thing in the first place." She looked back up at him, though her gaze was unsteady. "Not to mention how raising such an idea might affect my re-election campaign—I know that sounds crass, but I cannot dismiss the possibility of things going wrong."

Quatre smiled, and shook his head. "It's not crass," he assured her, patting her shoulder gently. "I understand such concerns." He withdrew his hand after a moment, and he stared at her meaningfully. "Still, I would like you to think about it."

When she looked back at him unconfidently again, he said in a warmer way:

"If anyone can do this, Relena, it's  _you."_

She couldn't help but smile at his sureness when she lacked it herself, and she pressed his hand gratefully.

"Thank you, Quatre. I appreciate that." After a moment, she added: "And I promise that I will think about what you said, as well."

After a quiet, affectionate pause, a thought suddenly came to Relena; she bit back a small smile as she stared inquisitively at Quatre, catching him by surprise.

"Quatre . . . I've been meaning to ask you something, too."

His eyebrow rose in curiosity.

"What is it, Relena?"

She leaned in a little closer.

"Has Miss Catalonia visited recently?"

His face crimsoned, and Relena couldn't help but grin.

_Ah, I guess so._

Quatre looked away for a little moment, clearly uncomfortable with the query.

"As you know, she's been interested in acquiring some real estate in L4," he reminded Relena with a small cough, obviously trying to hide his nervousness. "So yes, she's been travelling here regularly."

Seeing Relena's expectant look, he added at the end: "Of course, I don't always have time to see Dor— _Miss Catalonia_ —when she visits."

The young minister's smile was more gracious this time, and she patted Quatre on the shoulder. "No, of course not," she said, though her smile widened slightly at the thought.

_But I'm sure you_ _**make** _ _time, anyway._

The contrast, however, between Quatre's innocent bashfulness over Dorothy and her complex, secret relationship with Heero, gave her some pause.

_I wish I could be as honest about it as him._

She felt a pain shoot through her chest, but she ignored it, smiling again at Quatre.

"Thank you for walking me back. I'll see you again in a few hours."

He merely nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "We should talk again like this later," he added with a smile, and she returned the expression before they parted.

"We should," she agreed, and waved goodbye as he walked away.

* * *

Quatre's words stayed with her long after she'd entered her lodgings at the Winner estate.

_If anyone can do this, Relena, it's_ _**you.** _

Was that really the case, she wondered? Sometimes it seemed that everyone in the universe had far more confidence in her abilities than she herself did, and it seemed impossible to try and live up to such expectations.

_I'm no miracle worker, after all._

The idea he'd left with her—about the mobile dolls—had of course occupied most of her thoughts as she laid on the queen-size bed, now too contemplative to take her much-needed rest before the meeting resumed.

_It's too much to consider on my own._

Her mind alighted, suddenly, on the idea of asking Heero for his advice—as she so often did—and she wondered why she hadn't done so sooner as she sat up, grabbing her phone from the side coffee table.

_To: YUY, Agent Heero_

_(empty message)_

She knew that he would come without her having to write anything—it was, after all, the same method by which she usually arranged their "private" meetings. Knowing her messages and calls were routinely monitored for transparency's sake, she tried to be discreet; luckily, however, no one had asked her about the empty messages yet.

Nevertheless, it made her redden to think of the  _actual_ purpose of those texts.

Within seconds, the red light on the phone flashed, and she promptly clicked on the alert notification.

_From: YUY, Agent Heero_

_On my way._

Her blush unconsciously darkened at the reply, spare of any details as it was; she assumed that he had been with Quatre for a while, as she had been provided with extra security detail from the Winner estate and was safe enough on her own.

With the thought of him soon arriving at her door, however, she suddenly felt herself being consumed by the same, stubborn thought that had struck her earlier.

_I have to say it._

Relena recalled the blushing look that Quatre wore when she asked him about Dorothy, and a hint of jealousy coloured her gaze as it stared into the mirror above the dresser.

_I shouldn't run away from it._

She felt that she had been doing that for years—keeping everything inside, and saying only what was in the bounds of appropriateness to say in the present moment. And yet, by doing so, she had become more and more ashamed of her inability to be honest with him about how she really felt.

_Would our relationship change?_

On the one hand, she had always feared saying it—she remembered how intimacy and affection had driven him away before, and she hardly wanted to give him cause to do so again.

On the other, she often wondered if saying the words would suddenly spark something within him—some dormant emotion which would awaken and embrace her wholeheartedly the moment the phrase left her lips. After all, he had changed so much already since his return the year before; he was gentler now, and, at the same time, more passionate in their intimate moments.

It gave her some hope—perhaps undeserved, and a bit imagined—but hope nonetheless that this time, he could accept her feelings for him.

She dreamed of his dark eyes softening when she told him, even if only for a second; and then, he would say it back to her, and kiss her deeply.

_Sounds like a fantasy._

Relena sighed as she slumped against the dresser, looking back down at the mussed-up bed cover absentmindedly. Upon reconsidering it, the idea just seemed absurd.

_But I want it to be_ _**real.** _

A knock on the door jolted her from her position, and she quickly slipped her phone back on the dresser. She smoothed out the small crinkles in her black skirt and light purple blouse, and carefully tucked her long bangs behind her ears as she approached the door.

She opened it calmly.

"Agent Yuy," she said with a smile, "please, come in."

Relena shuddered at the feeling of his dark eyes burning into her back as she led him away from the entrance. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking up at him a little less collectedly than before.

He stared back at her questioningly, though he  _thought_  he knew full well the meaning of the message she'd sent.

"This isn't a very good time, Relena."

She blushed embarrassedly. "It's not  _that_ , _"_  she said hastily, standing from the bed to avoid giving him the wrong idea. "I know it's not a good time for—for  _that."_

He looked curious now, but only mildly so. She wondered if she had drawn him away from an important conversation with Quatre, and felt a little guilty for doing so.

Nonetheless, she continued, collecting herself more firmly.

"I wanted to ask for your . . . your  _advice_ about something," she said, pausing to find the right words. "About an idea for Mars's atmosphere creation, to be specific."

He was more interested now. "Which is?"

She tried not to look annoyed with his blunt question, though her response came out just as directly as a result.

"Using OZ's mobile dolls."

His eyes widened for a moment, but then became thoughtful, and she observed him closely.

He was silent for a while before he spoke again. "It makes sense," he said slowly, "if only in theory." He eyed her cautiously. "I wouldn't bring it up at the meeting, though."

Relena sighed a little, and smiled despite the serious tone of the conversation. "You read my mind," she said jokingly, though she wasn't surprised to find that his expression hadn't changed.

_Can't ever take a joke, can he?_

She held back from sighing again at his humourlessness. "What I mean is: I also don't think it would be wise to suggest it—not  _here,_ at least," she agreed with him, adding: "But I believe it's worth discussing with the Committee, once we get back."

His eyes didn't look any more encouraging than before.

"Even with them," he said warily, "you must be careful, Relena." He paused for effect. "There are many who would try to undermine your efforts in the parliament, should they learn that you were considering the idea."

She felt slightly exasperated now with his suspicious tone, thinking it a little bit over-the-top—especially since she had only just  _suggested_ the thing!

"And here I thought you would  _love_ the idea," she said tiredly, "and  _urge_ me to pursue it, even in the face of public and official opposition."

Heero frowned at the comment, and crossed his arms. "I might have, in the past," he admitted, surprising her, "but there are more important things to consider now." He looked at her pointedly. "Your  **career** , for example."

She blushed, suddenly feeling childish in comparison to such a mature statement; and the more she thought on it, the most she felt amazed at how much he had transformed from the angry, violent boy on the beach whom she had happened upon five years ago.

"You're right, of course," she said after a while, smiling gently. "But, somehow, I can't get it out of my mind now that it's there."

His frown deepened. "It must have been Quatre's idea," he realized, irritated.

She looked at him inquiringly. "Has he mentioned something like this to you before, Heero?"

His frown eased a little. "No," he replied, "but it's not as though it never occurred to me, either."

She looked surprised again, but before she could ask about it further, he continued. "I would not have suggested it unless I thought it were feasible," he said defensively, and added more decisively: "Which, at present, it  _isn't."_

It was Relena's turn to frown at his scepticism. "There's no harm in just  _bringing it up,_ Heero," she chided him lightly, "even if it doesn't gain any traction."

His eyes flashed dangerously at her. "Like I said, Relena—there  **is** harm in it," he repeated, "and not  _just_  politically."

She held his stare for a while, not wanting to relent to his strong-willed words; but, as she considered them, she finally looked away, and the impatience left her eyes.

"I know you are just looking out for my best interests, Heero," she said softly; looking at him more purposefully, she continued: "But sometimes, I just have to do what  _I_  feel is right."

The beginnings of a frown began to play upon his lips, but as he observed her quiet, candid resolution, it faded away again, and he uncrossed his arms.

"I know," he said after a time, and looked away from her.

She finally smiled again upon hearing these words, and touched his arm appreciatively. "Thank you, Heero," she said.

He stared at her, bemused. "For what?"

She shrugged, and her smile spread. "For being here, I suppose," she said, "and for listening to my troubles, small and unimportant as they may be."

His expression grew stern, and he grasped her hand on his arm tightly.

"They're  **not** unimportant."

Relena blushed at that firm remark, and even more at the feeling of his large, warm hand covering hers; and the longer she stared at him, the more she felt her creeping thought from earlier come back full force.

_You should say it, Relena._

Shyly, she interlaced her fingers with his on his bicep, startling him; after a moment, she drew closer, and looked up at him coyly.

"There's still an hour before the meeting, you know."

He reddened at her comment, and then frowned again. "I'm sure this place is bugged, Relena," he said with a hint of embarrassment in his voice, his eyes darting to all the corners of the room where cameras might be hidden. "And, as I already said—it's not a good time."

Relena hid an amused grin at his paranoia, and drew away from him to sit back on the bed, patting the space next to her.

Her look was suddenly bold. "We're not exactly in 'enemy territory,' Agent Yuy."

He considered the remark for a while, though he was obviously somewhat annoyed by its sarcastic tone; finally, he relented a little, and came closer to her.

A smile tugged on her lips. "You can sit, you know."

He stared at her for a moment longer before sitting next to her on the bed, though his gaze then moved away, discomfited. She turned it back to meet hers, gently moving his chin towards her.

Her fingers lingered on his skin as she swallowed a little, her cheeks pinking at their closeness. Even after having been with him in  _that way_ so many times already, she still had trouble getting used to it all sometimes.

_Especially since I just_ _**prompted** _ _this without warning._

Heero, by contrast, had gotten the swing of things much quicker; where at first his touch had been tentative and cautious, always awaiting her permission, he eventually learned to take the initiative himself. The transition had been fairly recent, and he always left her in some state of surprise when he did it—after all, this was  _Heero Yuy_ , not exactly a man of daring, romantic gestures.

But then she supposed that, if nothing else, he was, at the very least, a young man with certain  _instincts_ when it came to this sort of thing.

It thus went without saying that when Heero kissed her—and his hands travelled down to the buttons of her blouse—she jumped a little in her seat, though she hardly stopped him. He quickly pulled her shirt up from under her skirt and pushed it to the side before making similar work of her skirt, stripping Relena down to little more than her undergarments and pushing her back against the bed.

Red-faced, she finally separated her lips from his, and pointed at his clothes.

"Aren't you still wearing too much?"

The smallest trace of a smirk twitched on his face as he sat back, taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his white dress shirt. She propped herself up on her elbows from underneath his hips that straddled her, watching his actions intensely.

She sucked in a breath as the shirt finally came undone, revealing his finely-sculpted torso; she wanted to cover up her own body in embarrassment at seeing it, feeling that he put her physique (or lack thereof) to shame.

Heero, however, didn't seem to notice her shyness—he only craned himself towards her again, his strong arms planting themselves on either side of hers as they kissed.

Relena wanted to sigh contentedly at the sensation, amazed at how he still managed to conjure butterflies in her stomach with just the touch of his lips to hers.

_You need to tell him._

Her mind suddenly reminded her of the whole purpose of changing the topic of conversation in the first place, and she drew away from him for a moment, looking away in thought.

He stared at her reticent expression, puzzled.

"Are you all right?"

She blushed at the question, her eyes flitting back to meet his.

"I . . . I have something to tell you," she said hesitantly, her face reddening more with every passing second of silence. "It's something—something I've been meaning to say for . . . for a long time, actually."

He only stared at her even more curiously at the vague remark.

"What is it?"

The heat crawling up her body was sweltering, and almost unbearable.

_Say it._

"I . . ."

_Just_ _**say it.** _

She closed her eyes, wincing at the pain in her chest caused by her throbbing heart.

"Heero, I . . ."

She felt him climb off her hips to sit by her again, and he helped her return to a seated position as well. The movement seemed to help drain some blood from her head, and she gazed at him more clear-eyed than before.

He stared back at her in silence, awaiting whatever it was that she had to say; in his expression, she observed his tendency to expect the worst.

She knew why, of course—he had never felt secure in their relationship, always expecting her to realise, one day or another, that he was a cold-blooded killer at heart with whom she could never form a lasting bond. It was a cynical assumption, to be sure, and one of which she constantly had to reassure him wasn't true, and would never be.

_And how could it be, when I . . . when I—_

" **I love you."**

She closed her eyes after she said it, afraid to see what his expression would be; in fact, she would have buried her face in her hands completely had she been a weaker woman.

Nonetheless, a part of her felt suddenly at peace.

_I said it._

However, the silence that followed her confession admittedly made her nervous. She opened her eyes against her own will, unable to help but give in to her curiosity.

Upon seeing his expression, however, she felt a slight twinge of regret.

_I've confused him._

It was a long, torturous minute before he spoke, and when he did, his quiet, honest tone pierced her heart in an unexpected way.

"Relena, I—I don't know what I should say."

She pinked at the admission—it was rare for him to be at a loss for words.

She swallowed anxiously. "You—you don't have to say anything, Heero," she said slowly, "and besides—it's not about what you  _should_  say." She stared at him with some hope glimmering in her blue eyes. "It's about saying what you  _feel."_

He frowned a little at her reply. "But what if I don't know what I—what I  _feel?"_

Relena's expression fell at the question, and she looked away from him.

_So he doesn't feel the same._

Seeing her disappointed look, Heero swallowed, feeling that strange, creeping sensation of guilt sting at him.

"I just—I don't know if what I feel is  _love,"_ he tried to explain, his tone a bit softer than before. "I can't call it something that I don't understand."

Relena gazed up at him again at this admission, at first surprised by it; after a moment of consideration, though, she felt that she understood, at least a little bit, what he was trying to say.

She suddenly smiled a little, and held his hand in hers.

"Then I'll help you understand," she told him gently, kissing his calloused fingertips one by one. With deep affection buried in her cerulean eyes, she leaned in close to him, and whispered into his ear.

" _I want you to_ _ **love**_ _me, Heero."_


	21. 7 February, A.C. 201

Relena breathed a sigh of relief upon reading the morning headlines at her desk, though her cheeks reddened in irritation at the specific wording of them.

_The 'Queen of the World' Makes a Comeback!_

_Relena Peacecraft Makes Peace with Casper Strickland_

_Vice Foreign Minister Impresses During Intimidating Second Interview_

She frowned as she swiped the headlines away, the black surface of the table clear once more.

_Will they ever stop calling me "Queen Relena"?_

Even while this niggling annoyance remained, she felt, for the most part, content. After all, she had gone back on Casper Strickland's news program and successfully fended off his many "gotcha" questions regarding the rumours of restarted mobile dolls with a far defter diplomatic hand than she'd employed the last time around. The news coverage reflected that, even if the manner in which it characterised her "triumph" was a little too theatrical for her tastes.

What had surprised her more than her own confident "comeback," though, had been the sudden outpouring of public support for the Mars project—her fierce and unflinching defence of it on the widely-watched news show had the unexpected effect of boosting interest in it and increasing recruitment levels overnight where before there had been a dearth of applicants.

She'd even had the rare call from Milliardo and Lucrezia from their station near Mars, and both had beamed (or, in her brother's case, looked mildly pleased) at her like proud parents.

Added to this welcome surprise was a surge of support for the Preventers in the ESUN parliament as a result of the successful raid carried out in Bangkok by Lieutenant Po's team on the ground in January. The capture of key leaders of one of the biggest illegal arms and narcotics rings in Southeast Asia gave the organisation a serious boost of credibility, and with this came an increase in the funding that it had so desperately needed.

Of course, the bust-up of the crime ring didn't come without its own set of rumours to quash: namely, that the leaders had been taken down in a one-night raid by a  _single agent_ while they slept.

She frowned as she recalled hearing the details of the attack from Sally, who—although denying the rumours—had nonetheless been hesitant enough in their private conversation to lead Relena to believe that, indeed, what she suspected was the truth.

_Heero, you_ _**idiot.** _

The thought of him charging into enemy territory without back-up was both terrifying and infuriating, even a month later. The fact that he was due to return to Brussels to give a full report detailing the specifics of the events any day now only made her temper grow worse; furthermore, it had been so long since she had seen him, and since he'd contacted her in any way, that the bitterness that had been roiling within her since his departure had only grown with time.

She pulled up her agenda for the day on the tabletop to distract herself from getting any angrier than she already was, focusing instead on the immediate business to be addressed.

_Space Technology Committee hearing at 1000 . . . Mars Commission meeting at 1200 . . . Afternoon tea with the Foreign Minister at 1400 . . . Dinner with Mother at 1900 . . ._

Relena scanned the appointments with a sigh, resting her chin on her palm.

_At least when_ _**he** _ _was here, I had an excuse to get away._

Ever since Heero had left, she'd been starting to forget what it was like to have "free time," or what that phrase even  _meant_  anymore. When she wasn't running between meetings, speaking at public events, and overseeing committee hearings, she was reading materials for the next day's meetings, or sleeping—and she hadn't even been able to do much of the latter given recent circumstances.

She seemed to realise only with his second departure how precious their little liaisons—and their longer days away together—had been to her during those stressful times when she had no one else to rely on or talk with about her worries and fears.

She supposed that his sudden decision to leave again—regardless of how "necessary" his presence was to the success of the Bangkok mission—and his resulting absence from her life only served to disillusion her further when her thoughts drifted to him during those long, tiring days at ESUN.

She found herself alternately wishing that he would return immediately, or never again; with Heero, there was always a lack of closure about their "future" together, or even just the most basic aspects of their "relationship," and that had given her pause whenever she felt as though she was starting to miss him.

Relena shook off her brooding thoughts to browse materials prepared for her in advance of the morning's committee hearing, though little of it was unfamiliar to her, since she'd gone over them the night previous. Admiring the detail of the notes, she marvelled at her diligent, hard-working staff; since she hardly had the time to do the background research herself on the plethora of issues addressed by ESUN every day, she had to rely on them to develop her own expertise.

Just as she smiled at the thought of her team, the red incoming video call light blinked with Matilda's name next to it. Relena's eyes warmed at the sight, and she happily answered the call.

"Oh, Matilda! I was just thinking about you."

Her secretary answered in a flattered—and yet somewhat nervous—tone.

"Um, well, thank you, Minister Darlian. I, well—how to put this . . ."

Relena's eyebrow rose at Matilda's tentative expression, unused to the woman looking so unsure of herself.

"What is it, Matilda?" she asked concernedly.

The other woman seemed to be looking off to the side anxiously at something.

"Well, there's a visitor here to see you—hey! Wait, sir! You can't just  _go i—"_

The call ended abruptly as the door to Relena's private office suddenly opened, making her jump back in her seat. Her eyes widened a little as the door shut again behind the unexpected visitor; after a moment, however, her gaze hardened.

She called Matilda from her desk, her eyes never straying from the person in front of her.

"Oh, Minister Darlian! Is everything all right? I tried to tell Agent Yuy that he couldn't just barge in like that, but—"

"It's fine, Matilda," Relena cut in, her tone even. "There's no need to worry yourself over it." She paused, and her eyes turned somewhat icy. "Would you be so kind as to deactivate the surveillance and transparency for a few minutes?"

Matilda sounded surprised, but complied. "Of—of course, Minister Darlian."

Relena ended the call with a gentle touch to the table, and her back stiffened as she stared ahead.

"You're here to give me a summary of your activities in Manila, I presume?"

* * *

Heero stared back at her in silence, though his gaze was far softer than hers. He walked a few paces closer to her desk until he stood in front of it, placing a thumbnail drive on top.

"You'll find the full report on this," he told her, unflinching at the cold blue stare that greeted his dark eyes. "Of course," he continued after a moment, "I would be willing to supply you with any further details if the information in the report does not suffice."

Her eyes sharply pierced through his. "Was it necessary to deliver this in person, Agent Yuy?" she asked him pointedly. "Surely you could have sent it through a courier from the agency?"

Heero didn't blink, though it took more effort than usual to keep his voice steady.

_She's as angry as I thought she would be._

"I felt that the confidentiality of the information enclosed had the potential to be compromised if I didn't deliver it to you myself."

Relena's cheeks pinked in ire—it was the first real display of emotion she'd shown since his arrival, he noted—though it wasn't exactly the feeling that he had hoped to inspire with his visit.

Nonetheless, she calmly slid the drive over to her end of the table before placing it inside one of the several lock-secured drawers of her desk. Her gaze flitted back to greet his afterwards, and her fingers tensely interlocked atop the table.

"Do you have any further business here, Agent Yuy?"

A flash of disappointment danced across his eyes.

_Don't say that, Relena._

He stood firmly in place.

"I do, Relena."

The resoluteness with which he spoke those few words seemed to affect her, though she could hardly admit as much to him in that moment; her face nevertheless turned red in response, and she looked away.

He held back a small smile at seeing this expression—it was far more familiar to him than any other she had worn thus far.

She swallowed uncomfortably, turning back to him after a moment with a sharp glare.

"Well, then?"

Heero paused at her tone, unsure as to how he should proceed; however, perceiving that her eyes wavered slightly at his hesitation, he began to walk around the desk to come to her side.

"Stop there," she said forcefully, halting him just a few paces short of her.

He complied with her request, but he continued to stare down at her seated form with his steady, solid eyes.

She looked back up at him cautiously, unsure of what his next move would be.

_I just want you to_ _**look** _ _at_ _me, Relena._

They were locked in this tense stand-off for what seemed an eternity; then, suddenly, Heero bent down until he was directly across from her, their faces meeting at eye-level.

The shock that this movement gave Relena was not to be understated—indeed, she even reclined backward reflexively when he did so, her face heating at the sight. When their eyes met again, as equals, she looked overwhelmed by the horrible flood of mixed emotions that she must have been suppressing up until that moment.

"Stand up, Heero," she said suddenly, her face too hot to meet his. "There's no need for this."

His look became gentler—and even a little regretful—as he regarded the confusion that passed over her expression, though he acquiesced.

"I was wrong, Relena."

She stared at him in wide-eyed and tense surprise.

He swallowed, and his lips twitched before he spoke again.

"I—I'm  **sorry.** "

* * *

Those words triggered a memory—a memory from not so long ago that suddenly burned in her mind.

" _Relena . . . do you remember the day I left for Manila? You asked me to promise to come back. At the time, I couldn't promise you that, because . . . because I didn't know what I wanted."_

" _And now?"_

" _I want_ _ **you."**_ _  
_

It suddenly made her feel ill to even recollect such a thing, that time feeling so remote from what was happening in the present. Nonetheless, it seemed to infect her spirit, instilling her with a kind of righteous indignation towards him that she didn't know she could express aloud.

" **That's not good enough, Heero."**

His surprise was obvious, though, she thought, it shouldn't have been—after all, hadn't she put up with enough from him over the years?

Wasn't it clear, even to  _Heero Yuy,_ that human beings could only tolerate so much?

Her stare conveyed these rhetorical questions and more even while silence settled over the pair again, Heero evidently having understood her meaning.

Thinking on her words, he spoke again after a little while.

"I know."

She held back a twitch of disbelief from showing on her face, though her lips frowned.

"If you  _know,_ then you shouldn't apologize just for propriety's sake," she chastised him, her heart tightening in her chest. "You should only say what you  _mean_."

He looked at her more determinedly than before. "But I  _do_ mean them," he responded, and his tone was such that Relena—though she didn't want to admit it—knew that he was telling the truth.

Her frown deepened as a consequence of this realisation.

"And so what?" she countered, anger bubbling up in her throat. "What difference does it make if you're sorry? If you 'know you were wrong'?" Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. "That doesn't change what you did—and what you  _haven't_ done—all these years."

He looked down, clearly chastened.

"I know," he quietly said again.

She suddenly stood from her seat, staring authoritatively up at him.

"No, Heero, you  _don't_ know—and that's the point," she snapped at him, her light eyes burning with a rare fire. "You don't know what it's like for the people you leave behind when you go running off on suicidal missions in the far corners of the world; you don't know what it's like to not hear from the person you love for days, weeks, months _—_ even  _years_ , wondering all the while if that person is alive or dead; you don't  _know_  what it's like to try and slog through each day's struggles when the only person you've ever really trusted abandons you time and time again."

She was nearly breathless by the end of her speech as she sat down again in her chair, resting her heated forehead in her hand. As she briefly closed her eyes to cool down a little, she felt Heero's fingers suddenly rest on that hand, and it jolted her head up to meet his stare.

To her surprise, he looked somewhat hurt by her words as his brow furrowed, and he retracted his hand from hers.

"It wasn't easy for me, either," he said softly.

She covered up her small blush at his words with a well-worn frown.

"It was easy enough for you to leave,  **twice** ," she reminded him in a steely tone.

He frowned at the accusation. "Neither time was a simple choice," he replied defensively.

"But you always  _left_ in the end," Relena cut in, glowering.

Heero's tone tempered a little at this remark. "I did," he acknowledged, "but I now recognize that I did so for the wrong reasons."

Relena couldn't contain the pink colour that overcame her cheeks at this unexpectedly candid comment, though she pressed him further.

"And what were those?"

* * *

He hesitated to answer, at first; and in his hesitation, he detected her immediate doubt at his sincerity.

_She never used to doubt me like this._

He couldn't bear to see it in her eyes, even for that instant—but he knew, all the same, that he had brought it on himself with his years of indecision.

_I have to say it._

His eyes, usually full of mystery and silence, spoke volumes then.

_I_ _**have** _ _to tell her._

"I didn't want to be tied to you like this," he said slowly, and the words felt foreign to him even as they left his lips. "And I was angry that I could feel something for you—something beyond what was  _required_ of me." He paused, and looked at her with a tight, honest stare. "But I also knew I wasn't worthy of your affections."

His fingers curled into fists at his side, and his next words had a bitter edge to them.

"I convinced myself of that, anyway."

She sat watching him, spellbound—he had probably said more in those few minutes than she would have ever remembered him saying in their years together, he guessed.

Granted, he still spoke in a restrained manner, but even given the natural limitations on his ability to convey what he felt, she looked stunned.

In her silence, he felt compelled to continue, though he hardly even knew what he was saying.

"I wanted to forget you," he admitted more softly. "I wanted to forget . . . all of  _this."_

Her eyes relaxed, if only a little, at this, and Heero held her gaze gently.

"But I  **couldn't** , Relena."

* * *

His voice wavered at the end, and it made Relena's heart thump wildly in her chest.

_But I_ _**couldn't** _ _, Relena._

She suddenly recalled previous occasions on which she had allowed herself to indulge in speculation over what Heero's reasons might have been for leaving, and how she had conjured up some of the exact ones he was now voicing—his anger and fear, mostly—but she had hardly thought on them at all before her brain had quashed them mercilessly in the past, reminding her that Heero Yuy was not a man who could be controlled by such petty,  _human_ emotions.

He was, after all, a man always in search of a mission—forming romantic attachments wasn't exactly part of his "grand plan," so to speak.

_But did he ever really have a "plan"?_

To hear him say aloud what she had only  _imagined_ to be true was—needless to say—quite a shock, though at the same time somewhat of a relief. If he really meant what he said about having the "wrong reasons" for leaving, didn't that imply—in spite of everything—that he would . . .

Relena stared at him intensely, though much of her fury had dissipated.

_Are you staying this time, Heero?_

The question burned on her tongue, and she felt it begin to form on her lips—but just as the first sound formed in her throat, a red light flashing in her peripheral vision distracted her.

Instinctively, she answered the call.

Matilda's face appeared onscreen. "Is everything all right, Minister Darlian?"

Relena reddened.

_I forgot about the world outside of this room._

"Yes, thank you for checking up on me, Matilda," she answered quickly, though her voice sounded more distracted than usual.

Her secretary raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to reactivate the security system?"

The minister tried to keep herself from rejecting the offer too quickly. "No—thank you," she replied, swallowing in-between words. "But I'll let you know when that is possible."

Matilda nodded. "Of course. Oh—and Minister? Should I cancel your morning appointments?"

Relena was slightly amazed at how perceptive Matilda was, but merely nodded.

"Very well then. Goodbye, Minister Darlian," she answered shortly, and ended the call.

Relena couldn't form her own parting words in time, nor could she bring herself to look back up at him, still standing a little ways apart from her. She suddenly wished she could tear off her formal, ruffled white pantsuit, the costume making her feel exceedingly overheated in the small space.

She compromised with herself by unbuttoning the stuffy collar down to just a couple inches above her breasts, swearing to herself all the while that she wasn't doing it to get  _his_  attention.

Nevertheless, Heero—who seemed to have recovered somewhat from his lengthy confession—watched her actions with interest and bemusement. She caught his look after her fingers left the buttons of her shirt, and it only made her feel hotter.

Relena stood from the chair and met Heero face-to-face again, trying to keep her expression coolly professional in spite of the increasingly strange sensation growing at the pit of her stomach.

"I appreciate your honesty with me on this matter," she said matter-of-factly, though a small quaver was audible in her tone. "But I don't see the point in it, unless—unless you're willing to do things  _differently."_

He was steadfast.

"I am."

Relena's cheeks flushed again as she attempted to maintain her composure.

"And? Why should I believe you?"

Heero drew closer to her, but Relena didn't step back like before. His hand reached up to touch her face—but then, she stopped him midway again, holding his wrist gently in the air.

To her surprise, he let his hand dangle in her grip, and he spoke.

* * *

"Do you remember the first time I returned from Manila?"

She glanced away, red-faced; it seemed to Heero that she was recalling the event from the frown that grew on her lips, but he continued, ignoring her reticence on the topic.

"I told you then that I had returned because I—because I  _wanted_ you."

The words caused a shiver to run down Relena's spine, and Heero, sensing this, grasped the hand that held his in a soft embrace, lowering both to the side.

Still, she would not meet his eyes, and Heero went on.

"You said that I don't know what it's like to live without the person I trusted most."

Relena looked a little guilty for her harsh words in retrospect, and his repeating them caused her to look up at him again.

He paused. "I've always gone into my missions expecting to die or be killed," he told her bluntly, and the jolt of her hand in his was evidence of her discomfort with the subject. "I assumed it would be the same when I was in Phnom Penh, but . . ."

Heero trailed off for a moment, remembering something Wufei had derisively snarled at him during their first tour of duty in Manila.

_You can make excuses for yourself all you like, Yuy, but . . . it's that_ _**woman,** _ _isn't it?_

It felt strange now to admit that his fellow agent had been correct in that assessment, harsh and overly judgmental as it had seemed at the time; and he realized, as he spoke again, that he had never related the story to Relena.

"Wufei saw it when I was there," he said, taking her off-guard. "He saw how distracted I was, and he told me as much." He held back a frown at the memory. "But I never acknowledged that. I couldn't, because if I did—"

His eyes snapped up to meet hers suddenly, and she jumped a little in his grasp.

"If I did, I knew it would weaken me." His brow furrowed. "I knew it would make me lose my resolve."

She stayed quiet throughout his speech, and he felt the pulse of her wrist slow as she listened to him. Its steadier rhythm relaxed him enough to finish his piece, if haltingly.

"But then, after the raid of the rebel base camp in Bangkok, when I returned to Phnom Penh, I—I saw  **you**."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Me?"

He clarified: "Your interview."

She rouged at the reminder of the unpleasant experience, and looked embarrassed that even  _he_ should have seen her utterly fall on her face on worldwide and colonial television.

"Ah, yes,  _that,"_ she mumbled under her breath. Glaring at him a little, she added: "I'm sure you must have felt quite satisfied seeing yourself proven right, in the end." She frowned, mostly to herself. "Now you'll tell me that I should have listened to your advice, I suppose?"

Seeing her latent anger, he frowned. "No, Relena," he told her firmly. "Rather, I wanted to say that—when I saw you in that way—I was forced to re-evaluate my actions towards you."

A little colour crept into his cheeks at the recollection, and his voice grew quieter.

"I realized that I had caused you pain, and that you probably would not forgive me; and yet, at the same time, I—"

It was clear from his expression that he didn't know how to put the words together; Relena found it a little endearing, even if she was desperate to hear him say them.

"I still wanted to come back."

Finally, he let go of her hand—only to then touch her left cheek with calloused but light fingers. She covered them with her own after a moment, though she refrained from smiling at his touch.

He drew closer again until they were mere inches apart.

"I won't betray your trust again."

* * *

Relena's breath caught in her throat at that sentence; it sounded to her like a  _promise_ —a promise of loyalty, of trust, and yes, perhaps even of great affection—and such a promise was one that she had been waiting to hear from him.

Still, however, it left a lot to be desired; she wanted desperately to hear from his lips that he not only wanted her, but that he  _needed_ her, and—of course—that he loved her, too.

_Don't I deserve to hear those things, after all this time?_

Even while recognizing how significant it was for him to say what he had said, and how difficult it must have been for him to say them (being a man of so few words, she wondered how many times he must have practiced those few sentences in his head over and over again), she couldn't help but feel disappointed, and it showed on her face.

"Relena?"

Her lips trembled a little upon hearing his voice—a little older, deeper, and more thoughtful with the passage of time—say her name in the same way it always had.

Nevertheless, her fingers again drew themselves away from his, and her eyes shined with grit.

"Why now?" she asked, her lip pulsing. "Why do you only say this  _now?"_

When he moved to answer, she put a hand up to silence him; suddenly, she didn't want to hear yet more explanations, more  _excuses_ , for his behaviour, and she looked away, hiding her face should she lose control of her emotions in front of him.

"Don't say anything unless you mean it, Heero, unless you really  _mean_ it," she stated again, though this time her voice was badly shaken. "I want to believe you, but . . . how  _can_  I, after so long—"

" **Because I love you."**

Her eyes, now full of unconcealed tears, stared at him in a startled way.

_Wh—what?_

He took her hand in his again, and drew closer still.

"I love you, Relena," he repeated firmly. "I know that now."

Her tears flowed freely once the initial shock of his words had passed, though she hardly had the mind to object when he nearly closed the distance between them, his lips hovering just near hers.

Her eyes remained as wide as ever as she took in his dark but utterly genuine expression, and she spoke without thinking.

"You'll . . . you'll stay here, then? With me?"

He nodded, and his cheeks finally rouged deeply as he pressed her hand in his.

"I won't leave your side, unless—unless you want me to."

His words made her deliriously happy, if only for a moment; in the next, she grasped hold of the lapels of his jacket, and buried her face into his chest.

" _You love me,"_  she whispered into his shirt as his hand came to rest on the small of her back, and she laughed suddenly, the sound an odd mixture of bliss and heartbreak.  _"You_ _ **love**_ _me, Heero."_

She felt his chest grow hotter from her closeness, though he didn't draw back from the cascade of tears that drenched the front of his shirt.

"Hn," he answered just as quietly, and his arms warmly embraced her.

* * *

They stayed that way for a long time, standing in the middle of her office; and subconsciously both were thankful for the lack of further interruptions by Matilda or any of the other office staff, though they hardly spared their surroundings much of a thought as they held each other.

Finally, Relena looked up at Heero, her tears dried on her cheeks.

"Things  _have_ to be different this time, Heero."

Relena grasped his arms firmly enough for him to take notice, and added with sudden gentleness:

"Maybe it's selfish of me to ask this of you—and maybe I don't even care if it  _is_  selfish, but . . ."

Her grip relaxed as she stared at him, and her eyes were persuasively straightforward.

"I love you—and I  _need_ you." A familiar heat pulsated from her fingers through the fabric of his jacket as she leaned in, her voice quieting. "So don't make me wait forever," she murmured, "because I can't bear it."

His body relaxed under her touch, and he paused before he spoke.

"I've transferred back to Brussels—permanently."

She looked surprised. "Permanently?"

Heero nodded. "I haven't been assigned a specific role yet, but most likely, I'll be back in the recruitment office. And, should the need arise to travel," he added at the end, staring at her meaningfully, "I won't be making the decision alone."

His arms tensed around her, their gazes locked, and his tone calmed once more.

"I will do everything I can to regain your trust."

Relena withdrew a little, but remained just within his grasp. A furtive smile tugged at her pink lips, and she pressed her soft hand to his cheek.

"I know you will."


	22. 29 April, A.C. 196

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sad to say that this is the final chapter of Slow Burn; after all the wonderful and thoughtful comments I have received on this story, it will be difficult to stop writing it. But I feel—and I hope you all do as well, after reading this chapter—that things have come full circle, and that it will leave you feeling (mostly) satisfied with where things were left standing between Heero and Relena.
> 
> This chapter takes place during the After Story instalment of Blind Target, and therefore several lines of dialogue are directly lifted from its English language translation. I assure you all, however, that no plagiarism or disrespect was intended by this.

Heero couldn’t help but notice how calmly Relena walked out from the control room of the colony—especially given the fact that he had just announced his decision to destroy it.

He had stayed behind on purpose while the other pilots returned to the shuttle, thinking he would retrieve her from the room; however, he hadn’t expected her to exit on her own.

“Hurry up and leave,” he ordered her sternly. “There’s no time to spare.”

She nodded, but then came to a stop just a few paces from him, her eyes gentle.

“I know. Please take care, Heero,” she replied softly. “There’s no need to worry about me.” She stepped a bit closer to him, and her pretty face was full of belief in him. “You have other things to concentrate on—do them instead.”

He felt confused by her words, and by her trusting tone. He didn’t know what he had done to gain such confidence from her; the memories of the days when he had been threatening to kill her were still too fresh in his mind, and even then, he still had trouble understanding why she had treated him so kindly.

She continued after a pause. “You’re a strong person, Heero, but please—let me worry for you, at least.” A small smile crept onto her face. “I wish to do so.”

Heero looked down, not knowing what to say.

“Relena . . .”

The young diplomat was quick to perceive his uneasiness at her comments, and she closed her eyes, holding back a sigh.

“I’ll go now,” she said, brushing his shoulder as she walked past him.

Heero caught her wrist suddenly, and Relena looked at his hand in surprise. As her eyes travelled up to meet his, they widened even more—his expression was intense, even _passionate,_ as he drew her closer to him, pressing her hand in his all the while.

“Relena, I . . .”

She watched, dumbfounded, as he bent down his face towards hers, his lips inching ever closer. Her heart raced as if it would burst out of her chest, and she wondered, somewhat frantically, at what she was supposed to do.

But just as Relena had realised that she should shut her eyes—and did so—Heero stopped, his mouth hovering just above hers. She could feel his breath intermingling with hers, and his hand tensely locked around her fingers; and yet, he did not close that tiny distance.

He suddenly drew back from her, and his hand left hers. Her eyes opened as she felt the brief warmth irradiating from him depart, and she tried her best to keep from looking too disappointed.

“You should go,” he said quickly. “I’ll meet you back on the ship.”

And with that prompt command the Gundam pilot left her side, walking stiffly back to the shadows of the control room.

Relena watched him leave, but only for a moment. She quickly made her own way back to the shuttle, and when she arrived, she was immediately met by a concerned Duo, who was baffled by what had taken her so long.

As she took her seat and buckled herself in, she found herself unconsciously fixated on the back of the seat in front of her.

But as she stared—and thought on what had just passed between her and Heero—her eyes widened a little, and she pressed her hand to her lips thoughtfully, a smile spreading across them.

_He blushed just then, didn’t he?_


End file.
